Dear lucrow

Charles rockets out of bed, kicking away the sheets that tangle around his legs. The woman is still talking, but he can’t hear what she’s saying over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. Stumbling into his kitchen, he snatches the phone off the wall in a white-knuckled grip. “Hello?”

“Charles Rowland?” She sounds perfectly calm, like she isn’t calling from the bloody hospital of all places.

“That’s me,” Charles manages to say, even though he feels like his heart is lodged in his throat. His mum promised that things were better with his dad since he retired, that Paul Rowland is a changed man now, but Charles never really believed it. But if his dad has finally landed her in the hospital, Charles… well, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He can’t make her leave the old cunt; he’s tried and failed more times than he can count.

“I’m calling from St. Vincent’s Hospital on behalf of Edwin Payne,” Vera says. “He gave your name as his emergency contact.”

Charles’s half-asleep brain can’t quite comprehend the words, confusion overtaking the previous terror. For a moment, he wonders if he’s dreaming, if his sleeping mind thinks it’s 1993 and that he and Edwin are still best mates. “Edwin? Edwin Payne? Brown hair, green eyes, mole on his chin?”

“Dimples,” he doesn't add. “And beautiful hands and a smile that makes you want to do anything to get another one out of him.”

He can practically feel Vera’s judgment over the line. “Edwin Anthony Payne,” she says slowly. “Date of birth January 18th, 1973.”

Charles remembers Edwin’s twentieth birthday, the last one they celebrated together three and a half years ago. Edwin and Simon had just broken up for what really seemed like the last time, and Charles had been trying to hide how thrilled he was, because Edwin seemed properly miserable. Charles, Crystal, and Niko surprised him with a nice dinner and a lopsided cake that Charles and Niko made from scratch. It’d been a good night and by the end of it, Edwin was smiling, leaning back in his chair with a glass of wine, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

And then…

Well, it didn’t matter, did it? Apparently, it had never mattered. Edwin and Simon got back together a month later and not long after that, Charles and Edwin had the blowup that ended over five years of friendship in one horrible night.

“He was admitted here this morning.” Vera’s voice cuts through his reverie. “He’s asked for you.”

Finally, it sinks in that it’s a hospital that’s calling about Edwin. Edwin is in the bloody hospital. “What happened?” Charles demands.

“I’m afraid I can’t share many details over the phone,” Vera says. “But there's been an accident and he’s in surgery now.”

An accident. Surgery.Bloody hell, Edwin hates hospitals. He hates fluorescent lights, loud noises, and people he doesn’t know touching him, and all three of those things are unavoidable in hospitals. The thought of him alone there makes Charles’s heart hurt. And he must be alone, because there’s no way he would have asked them to call Charles otherwise.

Maybe he hit his head. Maybe he’s delirious. Maybe he’ll be furious when he gets out of surgery and finds Charles waiting for him. Maybe Charles should tell Vera sorry and hang up, because this isn’t really his problem. Edwin doesn’t want it to be Charles’s problem. But Edwin asked for Charles, and even if he didn’t really mean it, Charles has never been able to say no to him, not since their first day back at St. Hil’s.

“I’ll be right there,” Charles tells Vera.

***