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Charles looked around, his eyes never truly being able to focus on the deep red walls that gleamed and shined invitingly but also seemed as if they could cut like glass with sharp edges or cold angles.
This places reminded him of Desire, all sinuous warmth and dangerous invite.
He wondered if he’d somehow ended up in the Endless’ realm when he reached a high glass wall.
Outside was a constant twist and turn of soft pastel, a gentle and loving breeze curving around each other, like new lovers holding hands and couples that had seen it all and done it all but wanted, desired to hold hands, just because they could. It was beautiful.
He wanted to draw it, see if he could capture the soft colours that were still so vibrant, that melded together yet were decidedly their own.
Out of nowhere a small white table with his sketch pad and several different mediums appeared, a pitch black chair beside it.
Chuckling he took his seat and got to work. It took several tries to even get close to the surreal blend of brightness and even more before he was happy with result. He’d have gone through dozens of pages already if the rejects hadn’t erased themselves.
Just as he was finished the scene before him changed.
Suddenly the realm was a burning storm, writhing in it’s own agony. A deep presence settled over him and he realised it meant that Desire had returned to their own realm and were decidedly not happy.
“Well, who decided to intrude on my realm?” The normally soft purr was like glass carried on a tornado, slicing through anything that dare stand in it’s path.
Clenching his jaw he waited, doing everything he could not to tense, to not egg the entity on.
Heels clicked against the floor, resonating through reality as the Endless slid into the room.
“Well if it isn’t my favourite little ghostie? How fun.” The was that same danger, same anger as before but now all Charles felt was worry. There was something off about Desire, a pain that echoed outwards being muffled by biting words and a cruel gleam.
“Should we play a game?” Desire chuckled, stalking closer. “Maybe I can make you feel so much you scream and beg for it stop. Or should I go see that little friend of yours.” The Endless barked a harsh laugh, the edges distorted and wrong yet still unbearably beautiful. “Let him have you only for him to realise it’s a lie.”
If it had been anyone else he probably would have gotten angry. Wanted his bat in hand so he could smash their head open (his poor bat he still hadn’t replaced) but not with Desire.
The behaviour was all to familiar to him. Lashing out and showing the people closest to them what a monster they were, pushing them away before they could walk away.
Charles didn’t care if Desire were an Endless, no one was more stubborn than Edwin and Charles had won that one.
Walking across the room he didn’t give the entity a chance to speak again as he pulled them close, engulfing them in a hug.
Rather than letting his thoughts drift he focused on what he wanted. For the Endless to smile, to stop hurting. To feel loved.
The noise that escaped them was inhuman as they latched onto the ghost.
Charles almost hissed as sharp nails tore into his side, leaving long scratches under his shirt, instead humming softly as equally sharp teeth sunk through the meat of his shoulder.
Not once did he think of letting go.
Soon hot tears began to soak through his shirt, burning, and he pulled Desire even closer, hearing the little sobs and whimpers muffled into his skin. He wondered how long it had been since the Endless could turn to someone? someone they could pour all that rage and pain out and then fall apart and still be safe?
Charles couldn’t even begin to say how long he stood there, humming softly and rocking the person in his arms, because while they may have been an Endless, Desire was decidedly a person.
One who clearly needed someone on their side.
Something he’d once been told is that Desire was shameless. They did not care what they had done, who they had hurt, if he ever heard that again he was going to beat someone to a bloody pulp.
With gentle fingers he cupped the others jaw, wiping away the blood smeared over their lip.
“I’m not going to be your punching bag.” Charles started, watching the Endless flinch, but the ghost didn’t let them go. “But when you're angry, or hurt and you need someone by your side if you want me to be, and sometimes when you don’t, I’ll be here.”
Desire looked as if they’d been cracked open and laid bare before the other and Charles just pulled them back in, cradling them close.
Later Desire would apologize, distraught when they realised the bite wound would scar.
Later when Charles woke up on the sofa his right shoulder felt like fire and his left side ached, stretching was painful and reminded him of iron burns still healing.
Sitting up he blinked sharply and then snorted.
Propped at the end of the sofa was his cricket bat. It looked exactly like it had before except one small thing on the handle. A simple tricoloured band of red, white and black connected by lines of gold.
“You know I didn’t do it for a thank you, but cheers.”
He can’t be sure the Endless heard him, but he had a feeling they did.
Stretching out of habit he happily swung the bat, it’s weight familiar and comforting and moved to tuck it in his bag and taking out his sketch book and flipping to the latest page, he was quite proud of this one.