A month earlier...
Charles sat beside his window with a glass of red wine in his palm, swirling it around and pondering the situation. There were so many issues coming up and he'd be lying if he said that most of them were actually important to him and his business affairs.
He just didn't have the capacity to directly feel as much as others did. He'd cried before, he laughed, he could be generally happy or annoyed and maybe a little sad. But the depth of his emotions stopped where he no longer became actively aware of them. They sat in the back of his mind, because intelligence, logic, and most importantly work, took the front seat most of the time; putting him on autopilot, preventing the emotions from running through his body properly. He accidentally forgot about them by pushing them away from prioritizing his work over his heart. Perhaps he really was a robot.
This also made it hard for him to sometimes feel empathy for a situation he felt was logically proven to be a lost cause or to have an easy solution to, which was partially why everything had gotten messier to begin with, because logically, he should realize that not everyone was like him and thought the same way; some people prioritized their feelings and ego, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it just wasn't how he worked. Charles sighed as he placed his wine down and pressed his hands to his face.
The door made no sound as it swung open, but Charles could still feel the presence of another person walking in. "Hello, Abigail."
"Charles." Sharp, precise footsteps clicked against the floor. "Everything alright?"
"No." Charles sighed as he lifted his head from his hands, looking up at the pretty manager for the band The Excommunicated. "What do you have for me?"
"It's not looking good." Her cool blue eyes stared through Charles's face, arms crossed over her suit shirt and soft curls against her face. "I'm sure you'd expect that, though."
Charles exhaled deeply once more, picking up and draining his wine in one go before heading to the side of his desk to pull out a bottle of whiskey. He needed something stronger. "So there's no way around it. The prophecy's set in stone."
Abigail looked away, lips pressed into a thin line as she thought. "Every step we take just propels us closer. If we chose to do nothing, it would still be the answer. It's inevitable, the only thing that has a possibility for change is the ending, based on what they choose to do."
Charles pressed his hand against his chest, feeling the cold emptiness inside of him that had been there since being raised from the dead. "I don't understand. Ishnifus called me the Dead Man. He said I was important. He wanted me to be his successor."
Abigail gave him a quick look of sympathy, before stepping around the desk as well and taking the booze from him after he had poured himself a drink, choosing to gulp from the bottle itself. "It wasn't confirmed that it was about you. It wouldn't make sense for you to die when, like you said, you already have a quest to fulfill."
"Yes, but in all fairness, being his successor was never part of the prophecy." Charles turned back to his window to look out of it. "And it never said my part would continue on permanently."
"You talk so calmly about your potential death, but your face doesn't agree with your tone."
"At this point, I'm ready for death," Charles stated, taking a swig of his drink, "but my boys aren't." Abigail raised an eyebrow and though he wasn't looking at her, he knew she was waiting for him to continue. "They don't know how to take care of themselves. Hell, they're falling apart at the seams with me here, I can't ah, imagine if I were gone."
"They'll figure it out. And my band will be there, too. They're not the smartest sometimes, but..." Abigail hesitated. "Besides Tobias, he's pretty level-headed. They all mean well, and they know at least how to survive. Plus once they're together is when the prophecy really begins, which is really out of all our hands at that point, including their own for a little while. But only a little."
"I know." Charles frowned lightly as he looked down at his drink, his head pounding but not from the alcohol. "I just..."
"You care about them." It was a statement, a fact, not a question, and Charles nodded his head quietly, knowing he couldn't deny it. "Granted you're not the most lovable person to be around, you've said so yourself, but you still have feelings. You're still human." She patted his shoulder gently, and he hummed softly in response. "Then there's Nathan..."
Charles winced and if he still had a beating heart, it probably would've skipped into his throat. "I told you that in confidence, that doesn't mean you have the right to speak on it every chance you get."
"Sorry, personally I'm just kinda psyched about it." Charles raised an eyebrow and she smiled. "You two look really good together." Then her face turned serious again. "I know you're scared for him."
Charles stood abruptly, the booze sloshing everywhere as he walked to the opposite end of the room, placing his forehead against the wall. The room was silent as he struggled to figure out how he was going to word this. "I... I'm being selfish about this. I'm not just worried about leaving him behind, I'm worried about him moving on. I'm worried about being just a memory to him. A temporary, secret lust between two men. A 'what if' scenario that I've been a part of for too long because I haven't taken this seriously. I want him to admit his total, unrequited love for me even beyond death when I can't even hardly express myself to him currently and seriously."
Looking back at Abigail, Charles studied her stunned expression. "He's only told me he loves me a handful of times, maybe not even, and I've answered back even fewer times. And yet, I expect him to be more open about his feelings and be devoted to my soul when I'm no longer here?" Charles laughed in sudden coldness.
"I feel as though I'm only further constipating both of our feelings in the long-run because my brain doesn't work normally. I can feel emotions, they're just too far away for me to grasp sometimes, then they hit me all at once..." He gripped at his suit around the chest area and shuddered. "I've seen the way Toki looks at him. And I think sometimes Toki feels too much and is too naive for his own good, but I also think that sometimes, that's what Nathan needs. Nathan is at his best, his most vulnerable, his most kindest, when he's with Toki. He allows himself to feel even more than he does with me, and enjoys things. I mean, he seems happy with me too, but there will always be a barrier because I can't encourage those feelings to the best of my ability, I just help him bottle it all up a lot of the time by leading by example."
Charles took a deep breath to steady himself. "This makes me even more selfish, because I want Nathan all to myself, I want things the way they are now even though it's confusing how to express emotions, and I can't stand Toki's clinginess even if it actually helps Nathan realize that expressing emotion is okay. Sometimes Toki encourages Nathan and Nathan even gives me credit for it just because we're dating, and I feel both bad but proud..." He gritted his teeth as he remembered looking back at some of his cameras about a year ago and seeing Toki enter his office before running away from the sight that fell over his eyes.
It didn't even bother him that Toki found out, because he knew the young band member would never mention it (at least not with ill intent), what bothered him was the idea that Toki proceeded to become even more unbearably close to Nathan after seeing the brute and the manager together.
Abigail leaned against the wall, still by Charles's window, as she watched him carefully. "I can see your mind is preoccupied with other worries than just the end of the world."
"Hm." Charles managed to compose himself, those bubbling emotions simmer as they faded to the background once more, and instead gave her a blank gaze, though he wasn't about to deny what she said. "There's so much going on. A lot that I need to fix before I go. That I need to fix with Nathan, with Toki, with Murderface, with Pickles..." He twitched at this. "I'm afraid I ah, won't have time for everything." He needed to at the very least allow Nathan to feel, even if he personally had to fake it to teach him that it was okay. He needed to fix the issue with forcing Pickles to repress his emotions. He really just needed to stop teaching his boys that bottling up his feelings, like he did, was a good thing. He needed to try and prepare them all for his inevitable departure; even if it wasn't him in the prophecy, he couldn't be around forever. He needed to stop being so selfish for once.
"Hey, who knows. It doesn't specifically state that the Dead Man you know... dies again." Abigail shrugged. "It says that the one that blesses the eight will be the one to start the process, with their death. You already technically died, and it seems a bit egotistical for you to think that automatically means yourself. You haven't even met my band, to bless them." She grinned to show that she was just joking, but her thoughts were valid nonetheless.
"Very true, though one could argue that allowing your band to meet mine is a blessing itself, since you've told me they're big fans." His eyes lit up with mild amusement, though his face remained stony, grave, old. "In the end, we'll find out." He closed his eyes and sighed quietly. "And there's nothing we can do to stop it. So I might as well be prepared." Abigail went to stand beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder as they both looked up at the ceiling, sending a silent prayer to the Gods to watch over their beloved bands.
Currently...
Charles listened to the soft, steady breaths of his lover, feeling relaxed after a very long, stressful day that was no doubt stressful to Nathan as well. Strong arms wrapped around his torso as the singer held him close, the only sound being a gentle snore once in a while. It would've been a peaceful time to also get to sleep, yet he couldn't close his eyes.
Ever since Charles had begun to 'express' himself more (usually with exaggerated responses to various situations), Nathan had been opening up more, too. Charles originally thought it to be a good idea, but now he was worried about Nathan being too emotionally vulnerable, especially if, or rather when, Charles passed... if he even could. No one was particularly sure if he could die again, or what kind of powers might bestow upon the enemy that would make his mortality or immortality irrelevant anyway.
But Nathan seemed even more happy than before, and Charles couldn't take that away from him. He also knew it wouldn't be a good idea to become a more closed off person than he'd been acting and confuse Nathan again. Everyone could see that Nathan was becoming even more open and honest with his feelings than ever before (even if it was mostly in the form of rage as he learned to deal with painful emotions), and if he screwed that up, he would never forgive himself. Charles may not be in touch with most of his emotions on a deep level, but regret was one he knew all-too-well.
Charles sighed and pried himself gently out of Nathan's grip, choosing rather to stand and pace in his office for a while, head swarming. So much to do, so little time...
After about three or four hours of pondering, with Charles not even realizing how much time had passed, he felt his resilient legs finally weaken from the strain of continuously walking, and he buckled underneath his own weight. He grabbed at his desk as he tumbled to the ground, causing one of his good lamps to fall and break as well as papers to scatter everywhere.
There was a sharp snort from the bigger man and then Nathan's head lifted up slowly and with confusion, eyes falling on the older man as he struggled to stand. Charles was fit and strong, but the stress and lack of sleep, plus circling the smallish spaced office, for about four hours was enough to cripple him at least for a moment.
"Charles?" Nathan grunted before hoisting himself onto his feet and stumbling over to where the other man was. Charles had already gotten himself most of the way up, but Nathan placed a hand against the small of his back in support anyway. "What happened?"
Charles shook his head, leaning against Nathan to feel the body heat radiate off of him in waves. "I just... slipped."
"Why are you even, uh, up?" Nathan grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He then gripped Charles's waist and pulled him close, letting their chests rub together. Charles sighed and rested his head against the singer's neck.
"Couldn't sleep."
"You'd think you'd be able to, after all that shit from earlier," Nathan commented as he stroked Charles's back lightly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I was just thinking." Charles couldn't explain it to him, not yet. Maybe not ever.
"You're thinking at uh, like-" Nathan paused to look at the imaginary watch on his arm, "-six in the morning or something."
"It's not that late-"
"You look like you haven't even tried... tried sleeping." Nathan pulled Charles away enough to be able to look him in the eye. "Something's up."
Charles patted Nathan's cheek gently. "It's nothing to be concerned over."
"Well too fucking bad, I'm concerned." Nathan's eyes narrowed, scowling slightly at the older man. "Talk to me before I put you through the wall."
"Ah yes, because violence solves everything for you," Charles said dryly. He didn't mean it to sound so harsh, but he was always irritated when being begged for an answer he didn't want to give.
"Uh yeah, because uh, not talking about shit solves. Shit. For you," Nathan mocked, finally letting go of Charles to take a step back. Charles missed the warmth but he was actually getting fairly annoyed now to bother getting upset about that.
"It actually does, thank you very much." Charles's face fell into its natural cold, rigid state as he stared into Nathan's eyes. "It's none of your business, nothing you could help me with either. There's no point in talking about it."
Nathan actually looked hurt for a moment before he stared back with an equally cold stare. "Fine, you can sleep by yourself for tonight!"
"Good, you're annoying to sleep with anyway!" Charles scoffed.
"Whatever." Nathan turned away, avoiding looking at Charles at all costs. "Fuck off."
"Nathan... I'm sorry," Charles said genuinely as he grabbed Nathan's shoulder to stop him from leaving. He could have said a lot worse but he was glad he didn't now, with how strange Nathan reacted to just that. "That was a rude thing for me to say, please don't walk away." He pulled on Nathan's arm and when he was met with a forceful shrug, he chose instead to stand in front of the man, realizing with dismay that his eyes were watering as he glared down at the businessman. "Oh..."
"Fuck off," Nathan repeated in a growl, refusing to acknowledge that he was crying as he blinked furiously.
Charles ignored his request, choosing rather to grasp Nathan by the shoulders and pull him closer. "I'm sorry," Charles whispered, rubbing circles against Nathan's skin and watching the raven-haired man twitch as his face seemed torn between being pissed off and being sad. Nathan tried to pull away again, his head turned so he didn't have to look at Charles. "I didn't realize..."
"I just wanted to know what was wrong," Nathan muttered back. He didn't sound as angry or upset, he just sounded tired.
Charles looked at him with sympathy. "I just don't want to talk about it Nathan- can't you respect that?"
"I'm tired of everyone shutting everyone out," Nathan mumbled. "I'm not good at this, uh, gay feeling shit, but..." He sighed and rubbed his temples lightly. "I don't want to go back to closing it all off. Emotion is so fucking brutal."
Charles moved his arms so that they were around Nathan's waist, chin on the other's shoulder until Nathan was relaxed enough. "I was worried about what would happen with you and the rest of the band when I'm gone." He wasn't sure why he decided to blurt that out, but he felt like he owed Nathan that much.
"Gone? Where ya going?" Nathan looked genuinely confused. Oh sweet summer child, Charles thought with an inward sigh.
"I mean when I eventually die."
"You're dying?!"
"No, not right now-"
"Quick, let's go get a medic-"
"Nathan!" Charles grasped at the brute's face to keep him rooted in place. "I'm not dying, yet. But we all die eventually, and I'm not immune to that." At least, he didn't think so. "I'll probably end up passing on you, and I'm just worried about making sure you guys can ah, survive without me."
Nathan chewed on his lip carefully, not sure what to say. Charles plucked the lip from his teeth and whispered softly, "I told you to stop doing that," before leaning in to give Nathan a kiss. Nathan wrapped his arms around the other almost immediately in a tight grip, practically choking all air out of Charles as he kissed back, lips trembling against the other's.
When finally they pulled away, Nathan murmured, "You can't leave me. Ever. I'll bring you back every time." When Charles looked up at Nathan again, the tears were free-falling this time and Nathan seemed not to be ashamed of them. Charles gently wiped them away, until Nathan grasped his hands with his own and growled forcefully, "Do you hear what I'm saying?! You're not ever leaving, not until I say you do!"
"Yes Nathan," Charles said quietly as he squeezed Nathan's hands and then cradled them to his chest. "I hear you."
Nathan took a deep breath, the tears disappearing as quickly as they started, resorting to pulling Charles closer to him and cradling him sweetly. It made Charles's dead heart ache almost.
"I'm sorry I upset you earlier," Charles spoke as he nestled his face in the crook of Nathan's neck.
"Hm? About the annoying thing? That wasn't really what set me off." Charles raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation, so Nathan sighed. "I mean yeah it pissed me off because fuck you and your lame insults." Charles smiled a little at that. "I just... when you insult in general, I mean, uh, fuck..." Nathan groaned as he tried to explain himself. "Fuckin' feelings and shit. This is gay." Charles waited patiently for him to continue. "...You'd rather insult me, which you. You don't normally do, than just tell me what was wrong. That's what upset me."
"Ah, I see. You thought I'd prefer resorting to insults than explaining anything to you because perhaps it looked like I didn't trust you, and it offended you. I'm still sorry about that." Charles pressed a kiss to Nathan's jawline. Another thing to add to his pile of lifelong regrets. "You're a very cute-"
"Nngh."
"-sorry, you're a very handsome ball of annoyance." Charles smiled lightly while Nathan rolled his eyes. "Do you forgive me?"
"I guess," Nathan grunted, but there was a light twinkle in his eye. "If you come back to bed with me?"
"I thought you wanted me to sleep by myself?" Charles rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to be dragged over to the couch again.
"Fuck off," Nathan stated, settling himself on the bed before pulling Charles on top of him. "Just don't call me annoying again. Or I'll be even worse next time."
Charles gave a soft laugh, a very small and quiet one but an actual genuine one nonetheless. He buried his face into Nathan's tough yet soft-to-the-touch chest and pretty soon, sleep had taken over the both of them.
There was a whole prophecy to deal with, but Charles figured it could wait another day.