#dbba fic

I might turn this into a full fic someday? I'm also starting to feel sleep deprived so please bare with me if there's any mistakes 😅

In the rare cases where Edwin smiles a full grin, teeth and all, All Charles can think of is the word “bloom”, like the petals of a flower unfolding under the first rays of sunlight. And like a bumblebee, Charles can’t help but be drawn.

Does Charles love Edwin? What a stupid question. Because what else can you do? What else can you do for a stranger who offered kindness before he uttered a word to you, who gave you warmth when your body was turning to ice, who stayed with you and talked and read to you until you passed, who made dying feel like falling asleep to a bedtime story? What else can you do for someone who has had the worst kind of injustice the worst of mind could ever fathom inflicted upon him, yet still find the strength to fight, to help and to heal? Who had so little in his afterlife that could be called comfort yet still put your worries before his own? What else can you do for someone who built a home and a purpose with you, who goes on the wildest and most fulfilling adventures with you, who gives you the care and validation that no one else ever has? What else can you do for the boy on the staircase to hell, barefooted and bloodshed, tears in his beautiful eyes, so vulnerable yet so brave, and offers his heart to you? What else can you do for someone who has made death miles better than your life ever was and ever could be? What else can Charles Rowland do besides love Edwin Payne with every fibre of his being?

Charles freezes, his fiancé’s hand tightening on his arm. Standing in front of their wedding venue entrance, arguing with the security, is his father who he hasn’t seen in years. After struggling through university on his own and meeting Edwin Payne, he took off and ran far away from home, cutting all contact with his parents while building a new home with the love of his life. A few years down the line, he and Edwin created a cipher to communicate with his mother. But throughout all of this, they have deliberately steered clear of his father. His father, who beat him senseless; his father, who locked his lanky teenage self in the basement that he lived in since he was five; his father, who nearly ripped his pierce off his ear, calling him homophobic slur years before he came to terms with his bisexuality. After Charles confessed his trauma after a particularly violent nightmare, Edwin had held him and promised that he would never let Paul Rowland near him ever again. Charles had gripped his boyfriend’s waist and promised the same: he cannot ever let his father lay a hand on sweet, gentle, loving Edwin. But he’s here now, at their rehearsal dinner, and he can’t help but freeze at the sight. Why? How? What is he doing here? How did he find him out after so long? What do I do now? Charles’ eyes meet his dad’s and the next thing he knows, Paul Rowland is pushing the security guard to the ground and comes marching their way, the rage on his face horrifyingly familiar. He has to move, he has to leave, he has to protect Edwin— But he can’t move. He’s frozen in place, legs turned to jelly. He wants to scream and cry but only quick puffs of breaths come out. Just before his dad can shout a curse at them, Edwin suddenly steps forward, pushing Charles behind him. “Excuse me, sir.” He says eerily calmly, which is a sign that he’s actually angry. “I don’t believe you’re invite to this function. You are trespassing right now, please kindly leave the premise before we have to call the authorities.” “Move out of the way, you fag. I’m here to talk to my son.” Paul Rowland growls, and Charles flinches, he wants to grab Edwin’s hand and run. “As you can clearly see, Charles does not want to talk to you. Now, leave.” Edwin continue, not phased by the slur. “CHARLES! YOU FUCKING USELESS PIECE OF SHIT, HIDING BEHIND A FAIRY?” The familiar roar rings in Charles’ ear. He can’t fucking breathe oh God oh fuck— BAM! Edwin, his sweet Edwin who has always gravitated to words, who he has tried to get into boxing without much success, punches his dad square in the jaw. Both Rowlands stare at him in shock. “YOU FUCKER! HOW DARE YOU—” “No, you listen here.” Edwin states, a dangerous edge in his voice. “We have given you multiple warnings. I will not allow you to come here, ruin our joyous occasion and do any harm to my fiancé, physical or otherwise. The police can deal with you now, we’re done here.” He lays a hand on Charles’ back, gentle despite the situation, and leads him away as the police who have finally arrived come and pull his dad away for questioning. They’ll need to provide their recount too, but Edwin insisted that they’ll deal with that later. They enter the dressing room of the venue where Charles collapses onto a chair. Edwin kneels before him, hand cupping his cheek, thumb swiping under his eyes. “Charles, please tell me what’s going on.” “No, it’s nothing, I’ll be fine I— Holy shit, Edwin, you punched my dad!” “Yes well, I very well couldn’t stand there and let him cause you even more distress, and he was clearly not going to listen to a word I say, sometimes actions do speak louder than words.” Charles pulls Edwin into his lap and wraps his arm around his waist, nose buried in his neck, breathing the familiar scent. Edwin’s hand goes to his curls as he presses kisses on to the top of his head. God, how lucky is he, to have such a wonderful person to call his? “We’ll be alright, my love,” Edwin whispers. “I promise, we’ll be alright.” Charles has never doubted him.