#he had the sense to obtain table and shelf but not a proper room

[kn96artworks]

spoiler to those who haven't seen the ep but i need ya'll to see godou's surreal asf living arrangement like where did he grab that shelf and table set from

[sopxhiea]

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Alfie shows the wild girl around and he’s surprised to find out just how quickly she picks up on things but before he can do anything about it, she pulls at the ropes she’s set him up on.

Part 1 | Part 2

“This is an excellent time for me to go missing.”

“Are you going to get me into bed or what?”

Keep them on their toes.

That’s what the lady had said, that a woman needed to keep a man on his toes if she wanted him to stick around. It made it more thrilling according to the old lady, it made it far more exciting than if she were to just give the man what he wanted, the sweet kiss of release.

The kiss could be obtained in many ways, a woman’s body was a world of wonders and it could entice any man if she were to use it correctly, to her advantage.

And maybe that’s when it all started.

The windows on the lines of the street were mostly closed due to the chilly morning weather, the thin layer of snow made no difference to those who chose to reach their destination by feet but it added a whole lot more to the spirit that was coming around with the new year. There were no more kids playing around the streets anymore, just the sound of laughter from the inside of the stone cold houses.

Alfie’s broad form walked in front, with a curly haired and fidgety man following behind. They seemed to fit well together in a sense when you compared their auras, Alfie was composed and the curly haired man was certainly not. Your footsteps trailed behind them, they were much taller than you in comparison so it took you a while to catch up to their speed.

There was no cane in his hand today, no sign of physical weakness as his eyes looked around for the cheery sound of kids playing around but there was none, just the dead silence birthed by the cold of winter, or something that felt too cold to bear.

He heard your lighter footsteps trailing behind, no feeling of uneasiness as he led you to his infamous bakery. You had offered to come and he had no opposition to that, although Ollie had many but he’d chosen to not listen to the lad, which mostly proved to be a mistake but he was hoping it would pay off this time.

Ollie had taken one look at you, and even though he hadn’t seen you before, he knew who you were. Word traveled fast around Camden, especially if it was about a young woman who just wouldn’t behave. The gossip’s description of you checked most of the boxes, the lad thought. Your eyes were as bright as they’d said and he was sure there was no one else around Camden with your delicate features.

He was sure it was you, the infamous wild lady.

You were much younger, though. You didn’t behave in a way that he’d seen girls your age do, you carried yourself with more maturity but he’d almost overlooked all that when you’d flashed him a smile. 

He’d felt his throat dry up and he almost forgot how old you were. Poor lad, Alfie thought when he saw the state Ollie was in when you’d started speaking to the man with a wicked smile. Alfie was glad the lad hadn’t seen you dance or he wouldn’t be able to control him from god knew what. Any man would have nothing but trouble keeping their hands to themselves when it came to you.

“We’re going to the distillery?” you spoke once your feet were in line with Alfie’s as he walked down the street to where the ‘bakery’ was.

You weren’t stupid. Alfie knew that but his eyes still widened when you said it.

Only people who worked in the same line of business knew what Alfie did, most of them at least. He’d killed people for less and he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard you refer to his bakery as a distillery, Ollie’s eyes widened too but the lad was too busy trying to figure if Alfie was going to pound your head onto the cement or just warn you off and he decided on the last option, Alfie didn’t hit women.

“What the fuck did ya’ just say, lass?” he spoke, leaning down to face you which made you smile faintly. The man was at least twice your size.

You upped your volume and made motions with your hands in the air like you were talking to a grandpa and not a thirty year old man, Ollie almost snickered while Alfie watched you with bewildered eyes. “I said, Are we goin-”

He cut you off quick enough, your hands stopping mid-air when he started speaking in a lower tone than usual which only made you wanna bite your lip.

“Where the fuck did ya’ hear that?” he asked, genuinely curious for a second before you bit your lip and all his energy went south. He gulped and you chuckled, he was just a man after all.

“Word travels fast, Mr. Solomons.” you said, emphasising on the last word and you watched his eyes go deeper than usual, some animalistic urge taking over him before he realised that he was standing right in front of the factory.

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it. he said under his breath before putting his large hand on the small of your back and pushed you towards the wooden doors of the entrance.

And you were in.

The inside was bigger than what it seemed on the exterior, the two factories were connected from the inside, most of the inside space absent from any doors. There was a wooden stair that led up to somewhere but you couldn’t see it from where you were standing. You saw barrels, dozens of them as men carried them around. 

“Nice place.” you whispered but Alfie heard it, it only brought a smirk to his lips. You weren’t so stupid to think to believe that a man like Alfie could only make profit off of protection or ‘bread’, there had to be more and this was it.

Alfie walked in front as he led you through the corridors of the distillery and it was obvious that having women around was not so common, especially none like you. No one said anything and you soon came to realise that it was because you had come in with the boss and not on your own. Some did give you strange looks, seeing as you were half Alfie’s age and almost half his size and yet Alfie seemed to not mind it at all.

Everyone had different moral codes, so did a gangster.

His office was the space the unknown stair led to, all smelling of musk and power like he did. You were sure he had a vanilla scent somewhere in there but it was hard to tell, he didn’t give you openings to lower your guard, not really.

The inside of the office had no decorations, just piles and piles of papers and a shelf just for drinks but you noticed that none of them were rum, just whiskey and other strong drinks. You were sure there was at least a couple guns hidden somewhere but you had pushed him far enough already for the day even though Alfie didn’t seem to mind all that much.

You sat on one of the chairs in front of his table, all wooden but worn out unlike the ones in his home. The space had the same atmosphere as his living room which made you think that he spent entirely too much time around his office, Ollie would vouch for that. Taking your gloves off with your teeth, you didn’t realise he had been staring with a smirk on his lips.

You truly were something else, he thought.

He had seen your classmates, girls around your age who spoke in a posh accent and curtsied each time they greeted someone. They didn’t speak unless they weren’t asked something and they sat in a proper way like Annabelle had taught all of you to do. But you didn’t do any of the things they did, quite the opposite.

It only enticed him further.

“You know..” you spoke, a charming smile on your lips as Alfie watched your lips move. “This is an excellent time for me to go missing.”

Alfie’s roaring laugh was the only thin that could be heard in the air after that.

He was a lethal man, you knew that and so did everyone who lived around London. You’d hard of the things they did, although it wasn’t quite clear which ones were true but you were sure he had killed many before and that didn’t bother you all that much but it would if that were you.

And it could very well be you in that given moment.

With no one to come with you, no one to follow or keep you company, you were in his office with his assistant. It was his place, not a place of comfort like his home but a place he’d killed before and you knew that for a fact as you eyed the blood stains on the wooden furniture, it was faint and small but you knew what blood looked like on wood.

You were in the lion’s den and he was staring right at you.

But you weren’t a sheep, and he seemed to forget that for a second.

“I ain’t gonna do anythin’, luv, believe me, yeah.” he spoke with a low smile as he searched through some papers, seated on his big chair with you in front of him.

“I don’t have a reason to...” you spoke with raised eyebrows as he watched you, hand on his beard and you kept on speaking. “..but why wouldn’t I believe in a gangster.” you spoke, eyes landing on him at last and you saw a hint of a smirk on his plump lips.

Alfie understood the weight of your words but he knew you didn’t mean them. You wouldn’t be in his office, sitting the way you were if you had. And he had heard of the lads you hung out with, some of them known criminals just for the thrill of it, he knew you weren’t afraid of him in the slightest bit so he just raised his eyebrows.

“Ya’ ain’t fuckin’ afraid of me, I know that, yeah, I do.” he spoke in a monotone voice, as emotionless as he could muster up and you just clicked your tongue once he was done and looked around while speaking. He wanted to kiss you, he concluded.

“I refuse to be afraid of you.” your voice was soft, like how he’d heard woman talk to babies as if you were cooing him. He didn’t like to be treated that way but he’d let it go, it was you after all.

And it was the full truth, he was sure of that.

Alfie knew you had lied to him a couple of times already but your sweet words covered the rest and he saw no reason to poke at it, you did it exceptionally well. But you were telling the truth now, the full and bare truth for him to know and he knew it for a fact because you’d stopped smiling and just stared at him with stern eyes.

“Alright.” he spoke, feeling his throat dry at the way you looked at him but a man like Alfie was hard to fluster, although you’d done it couple of times already. “Fuckin’ brave of you, that ‘s.” he spoke under his breath but you’d heard it, it was loud and clear.

You didn’t look for praise or approval anywhere, your record would speak for that. If anything, you looked for discontent in people’s faces, it made you think that you were doing something worth the risk but seeing Alfie approve of your recklessness awakened something in you, something you weren’t ready to name yet.

“How much of your income comes from this place?” you asked, genuinely curious as you tried to put two and two together. He had a big house, multiple maids and a distillery, he also had people pay for him for protection and so you figured, he was loaded.

He didn’t answer, just stared at you with hard eyes. Alfie had killed for less and he was not planning on shooting your pretty brains out but you were pushing it, you both knew it. You crossed your legs and uncrossed them again, pulling his attention elsewhere but he was quick to compose himself, it was quite impressive of him.

“I just figured, since you have other....side businesses, this is just a small part that provides your entire income. Is it not?” you spoke in a sweeter voice than before. You knew he would pull a gun on you soon if you kept going this way which gave you all the reason to.

The sparkles in his eyes were something else.

You shot him a smile as he remained silent. You had hit the nail on the head but he wouldn’t tell you that. He tried to figure out just how you got to where you were but soon realised he had taken you home the first night which would give you sufficient information about his wealth but you seemed far too quick to pick up on the distillery side of the business. 

He chose to pay no attention to it for the time being. 

He pulled a glass bottle from one of the shelves, the one that was hidden behind all the whiskey and foreign drinks. You eyed the crystal glass he filled with the brown liquid. You didn’t really drink rum but a gangster was offering you the glass so you’d take it.

You took the glass from his hand, your fingers feeling the cold material of his gold rings for a split second before you chugged it down, instead of taking a sip like most people did. Alfie then could tell that you really did drink, just maybe not rum. You grimaced afterwards, the liquid tasted different than what you were used to.

“It’s too sweet.” you spoke while licking lips and he watched at first. A scoff followed afterwards. 

Alfie sold these out like crazy and there you were, a thing half his size telling him that the drink wasn’t good enough for your taste. He then thought that maybe you were as posh as the rest of the girls in your school but the way you swallowed the drink in one go told him afterwards. His eyes dropped to your cheeks, now a bit more flushed compared to usual and he made a mental note of always offering you a drink so that you’d look as pretty as you did after you’d chugged the drink.

He then remembered how old you were, despite the way you looked at him, and scratched the idea.

“Ya’ don’t fuckin’ like it then, hm?” he asked, leaning on the desk by his elbows and you watched the way his rings caught the light in his office before you met his eyes.

“I don’t usually go for rum..” you spoke, eyebrows scrunched and a look of distaste on your pretty face as you looked at the glass in your hand before putting it on his table. “But yours is okay.” you spoke, seeing no reason to lie.

You didn’t like rum, whiskey was better and did the job a bit faster but Alfie’s was alright. You could even grow to like it, you thought, if he kept you around long enough.

He smiled then, a sweet grin on his face as you looked at him through your eyelashes. He was a hard one to crack, you gathered, but that wouldn’t stop you. You’d make him wait anyway but not before confusing the man. Men liked to be told what to do, you knew that. Especially if it was by a little young thing like you.

Well, at least most men.

“Mr. Solomons..” you spoke, a little pout on your painted lips and he swore you would kill him, you would run a man like him in a heartbeat and he was more than willing to give you the opportunity. “Are you going to get me into bed or what?”

Alfie considered.

He wanted to, oh god he so badly wanted to. But you were young, old enough to know what you wanted but still young, he knew of the danger you possessed. You’d ruin a man of Alfie’s wrath and you didn’t even need to fuck him for that, all you’d do is to kiss him once and he’d do anything, he thought. 

He knew that you’d had your fair share of lads around London, he’d heard. He wasn’t sure how much experience you had in bed but he was sure you could take it, whatever he had in stock for you. He was sure that you weren’t all talk and no play, that you could very well paint a picture from his fantasied only if he were to ask nicely.

“That why you’re ‘ere, pet?” he spoke, hand tugging at his beard as he looked at you through lustful eyes. That wasn’t the reason and you wouldn’t fuck him right at that given moment but you wanted to, and that was rare.

You’d toy with him and push all the buttons he had but there was no denying that you were attracted to the man. Maybe that was why you’d make him wait longer, torture every nick of his soul before he surrendered. It sounded fun but you also had your limits and seeing him riled up like this didn’t help.

You smiled at the nickname first and then at his face, he was a sight to see.

“Depends.” you spoke, loud and clear as his hands brushed through his beard. You were never too tired to play the games and as dangerous as Alfie was, he was still a man.

“On what?” he spoke in a heartbeat. He was thankful Ollie wasn’t here to hear the conversation, Alfie didn’t have the upper hand for once and he had no intention of telling anyone that.

“On how long you’ll last.” you said, telling him the full truth. You didn’t usually tell men that but Alfie clearly stood out. You smiled then, liking the way his eyes widened for a second before he nodded thoughtfully.

Alfie knew the game you were playing. Most women, hell, most people were too dumb or scared to play it and he soon came to realise that you already had him on the ropes. He’d been the one to take you to his home, the one place of comfort the very first night and he was the one seeking you out today when he came over to your school. You were just waiting and he’d done everything you’d expected him to do, with a little delay but he was still a man.

And he’d been the one to take you to his office, the one to give you the rum and the one asking when you’d sleep with him. 

He cursed at himself for being so blind. 

This was how you got man, and all that property and business. He was sure no man had ever lasted longer before and he was right but that didn’t mean that you didn’t have any more cards to play. You were just getting started for all he knew.

“You, yeah, are far too fuckin’ dangerous, pet.” he spoke, eyes glossing over yours and you delivered him your sweetest smile with a small wink.

Checkmate.

He lost.

Only this round, he told himself. He’d only lose this one time.

“So?” you spoke in a breathy voice and he found it hard to stop looking at your lips.

God, he was fucked.

But it didn’t matter, he realised. Alfie always had the upper hand, he was the one to end a conversation and not the other way around but he found out that he didn’t mind changing the dynamic if it was for you. 

And it didn’t matter from which angle he was looking at this situation, he was the one who lost and you’d won, in all of the realities of the scenario. He sighed once more, hand glossing over his beard but not quite brushing through it like it had been. One look at you, the rum on the table and your pretty hands that were decorated with paint and he had made his decision.

He’d wait on his toes.

You’d make him anyway but he liked it better if it was his choice. He took one good look at you, from head to toe as you sat in front of him with a smirk he had grown accustomed to and came to the conclusion that you were worth the risk of danger that came with it, as a flip side of the coin.

You shot him another smile as you spoke, your delicate features turning into one of satisfaction and content.

“Say, Mr. Solomons, what would you like me to do while I wait. I assume you have loads to do.” your voice was sweet as your hand signalled at the papers before him.

He shook his head, cleared his throat and began speaking. “Nah. This is nothin’, pet. I’d much rather talk about you, yeah.” he said, not using a curse word like he usually did because you were the one controlling the ropes and he didn’t like having his buttons pushed, he was sure you’d do just that if he didn’t give you your way.

“Well, I’m gald we finally agree on something.” you spoke as you giggled and he joined with a snicker of his own.

You’d be the death of him, and he knew.

And so the game of question for question started again, but this time there were no unanswered questions and a lot more risks taken from both sides.

----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @fuseburner​ @r-rose08​ @innerpaperexpertcloud  a/n: If I forgot to tag anyone, do let me know please!

I did read all your lovely comments on the last part and forgive me for not replaying to all of them but I wanted to say thank you for leaving the sweet comments and I’m so so glad you guys like this one! I will keep them coming <3

And happy Holiday season! <3

[short-stories-written-warmly]

Remembrance

This story started in a certain room in a, certain house, in a city called Irolesh. A man was reclining on a sofa. His face showed a troubled expression, the lines on his forehead formed a crease as he furrowed his brows and pinched his forehead. These features, along with his graying dark brown hair, painted his age on him.

“Look, I’m telling you that this doesn’t make sense.” The man said.

A haze appeared in the room, enveloping the table in front of the sofa. Bits of it waxed and waned around, moving like waves before it formed a vaguely humanoid shape. Then, it started to talk.

“Oh but it does make sense, you talking to me is all it takes for this to make sense.” Said the humanoid haze.

“No it doesn’t. This is a prank isn’t it? There’s a speaker and some sort of smoke generator hidden in my house isn’t there? Is this your doing Jacobs?”

“Please, do take off your tinfoil hat. Paranoia is unbecoming of a detective.”

“I think it’s more unbecoming to believe that I’m talking to a ghost.”

“And yet here you are, conversing with one.”

“Alright, I’ll level with you. Say that I’m actually talking to a ghost right now, and I’m not just drunk as all hell. How can you prove it?”

“Oh but the fact that we are conversing is more than enough is it not?”

“For all I can tell, this might just be a delusion that I’m talking to, and if that’s the case, I should really stop drinking tequila.”

“Hmm…fair point. So how do you want me to prove this to you?”

“Uhh…do ghost things.”

“Ghost…things?”

“Yeah, ghost things. Like, make one of the plates in my kitchen fly off the shelf or something.”

“How very quaint of you. Very well, I will give it a try.”

The haze dissipated, clearing the room. In a short few moments, the sound of a shattering plate can be heard from the kitchen. Shocked, the man got up from the sofa and rushed to the kitchen. There, he saw several plates floating in the air, and another one shattered on the floor. The haze was there, again in a vaguely humanoid shape, holding up the plates with its haze like appendages.

“There’s your proof my good man.” Said the haze as it put the plates back on the shelf.

“Well, I’ll be.”

“I suppose that’s enough proof for you then-where are you going?”

The hazy figure turned its head towards the man, catching him near the front door. The man stopped dead in his tracks, his hand was clutching the doorknob. He turned his head to look at the haze with a calm look on his face.

“To get the priest to exorcise you obviously.”

“Now that is just rude of you. After asking me to provide proof as well.”

“Well I’m not going to suffer a life with a ghost in my own home. So I’m going to have you exorcised.”

“Then you can be off on your merry way to the church.”

“I’m glad you understand-“

“But who knows what might happen to this house while you are away. Why, a gas valve could just leak and the whole place would catch on fire.”

“You’re joking-“

“Or maybe the phone would mysteriously leave voice messages for your ex-wife, pleading for her to return because you miss her and your kids so much.”

Drooping his shoulders, the man accepted his defeat and let go of the doorknob with a heavy sigh. He walked closer to the haze to have a proper conversation with it.

“Alright. Fine. I won’t have you exorcised.”

“Good choice. I want to move on from this world, but I don’t want to have it be forced upon me.”

“Guess I’ll be living with a-wait you want to move on?”

“Of course. It is the desire of any curious spirit to move on peacefully is it not?”

“I’m not a ghost yet so I wouldn’t know.”

“You’ll know in a few years.”

“What?”

“What.”

“Never mind. So if you want to move on, why aren’t you…you know, moving on?”

“I would very much like to, but as it is, a spirit needs to be at peace with itself to move on. My past regrets have made it quite hard for me to be at peace.”

“So if you can get rid of those regrets, then you’ll be able to move on?”

“Yes. That’s how it works.”

“So…go get rid of those regrets?”

“For a detective you are quite the simple man are you not? Sadly, I am not able to do so, as the…nature of what it is that I regret is quite unique.”

“Hmm…alright then. I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll help you deal with your regrets so you can move on. Then I can live peacefully again, and you can relax in whatever place that ghosts go to relax.”

“You would help me? That is very generous of you. Then, I accept.”

“Alright, we’re now partners in crime. So what is it that you regret so much?”

“I suppose I can tell you now. My regret…is not being famous enough.”

“What.”

“Yes it is true. I fear that I am simply not well known enough among society, and it deeply hurts me. If I am to let go of this regret, then I must simply become more famous. I will not be satisfied before I know there are people out there who will never forget me.”

“I…how do I even go about that?”

“And now you see why it is so hard for me to move on.”

“Can’t you just go haunt some people and become famous like that?”

“I’m sorry to say, but ghosts can only interact with the homes that they are bound to, along with its residents of course. Hence why you are able to converse with me.”

“Well now that’s just not fair, how am I supposed to solve this then?”

“Perchance you could try to find the people that I used to know and ask them about myself?”

“Oh right, you used to be alive.”

“That’s quite rude of you. In any case, I am-was a man named Charles Watson. Maybe you will be able to find my acquaintances.”

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do. Oh, and my name is Jack Denver. Here’s to a fruitful partnership Charles.” Said Jack as he extended a hand to the hazy figure of Charles.

“Same to you Mr. Denver, same to you.” Said Charles as he shook Jack’s hand with his own hazy hand.

They set out to work, searching for Charles’ old acquaintances. As a detective, it was fairly easy for Jack to obtain the records to a certain Charles Watson, former denizen of his house. He was able to use it to track down several of Charles’ colleagues, university friends, and old neighbors, and after several exhausting weeks he had met them all. Unfortunately for him, all of them had similar things to say about Charles.

“’He was an okay guy, didn’t stand out much.’ Is what they all said!” Jack said while throwing down several written documents onto his kitchen table.

“Oh dear, I fear it is true then.”

“You sir, are a completely average man, who socialized on a decent basis with others but did not leave a big enough impression on them. You were also a typical accountant working at just one of the many firms downtown, and not only that, you also passed away completely normally due to an allergic reaction to peanut butter!”

“…” Charles’ hazy figure looked down while clenching his fists.

“Not one of your acquaintances have a fond memory of you, or even a bad one. You’re rather forgettable to them. I mean seriously, you wanted to be famous and well known? Were you even trying?”

“…”

“If you had tried harder then maybe this wouldn’t be so hard. I mean, where do you even get off regretting not being famous when you weren’t even trying? Now I’m stuck with you for the rest of my life too.”

“YOU THINK I DIDN’T TRY?!” Charles shouted. The haze forming his face condensed, manifesting a vivid face of a youthful man with blonde hair and light brown eyes, with an expression that seemed to scream out all of his resentments.

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE OLD MAN! I WANTED TO BECOME A FAMOUS ARTIST! TO HAVE MY NAME HANGED BELOW MY DRAWINGS AS THEY DECORATED WALLS AROUND THE WORLD! EVERYONE PRAISED MY DRAWINGS WHEN I WAS LITTLE! I FELT GOOD ABOUT MYSELF, I WAS CONFIDENT! BUT THEN YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED?”

“What-“

“NOTHING HAPPENED! I FOUND OUT I WASN’T A TALENTED ARTIST OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT! WHEN I GOT TO UNIVERSITY, EVERYONE AROUND ME DREW BETTER THAN I DID! THEY HAD TALENT! I WASN’T SOME GENIUS! I WAS THE BEST OF THE WORST! THE LESSER OF SEVERAL OTHER EVILS! I ONLY LOOKED GREAT IN COMPARISON, NOT TRULY GREAT! I HAD NO TALENT!”

“…”

“SEEING EVERYONE ELSE DRAWING SO GREATLY, I LOST CONFIDENCE IN MYSELF! THE TEACHERS WOULD JUST CALL ME AVERAGE AT BEST! MY CLASSMATES WOULD LOOK AT ME WITH DISDAIN! MY DRAWINGS DIDN’T MAKE THE TEACHERS HAPPY! THEY DIDN’T MAKE MY CLASSMATES HAPPY! THEY DIDN’T MAKE ME HAPPY! THEY DIDN’T MAKE ANYONE HAPPY! I DROPPED OUT OF THE ART PROGRAM AND WENT INTO ACCOUNTING! DO YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO HAVE TO DO THAT MR. DENVER? IT BROKE MY HEART INTO THOUSANDS OF TINY PIECES. MY PARENTS PROBABLY HATED ME FOR IT! THEN I WAS STUCK WITH A DEAD END ACCOUNTANT JOB. IT’S A JOKE. MY WHOLE LIFE WAS A JOKE. I EVEN DIED AS A JOKE.”

“…”

Charles’ voice began to wind down and soften.

“It’s all a joke…my whole life was a joke. I lost the spring in my step when I dropped out, and nothing else seemed to matter. I was...I wasn’t living after that. I was surviving. Deep down, I still wanted to be a famous artist, but I knew it was too late, and I knew it was impossible. No one cared for my drawings.”

Charles sat down on the floor and hugged his knees, as if closing himself to the world.

“I get it Mr. Denver. It’s impossible for me to move on naturally. I give up. I am not going to burden you anymore, you can just...” Charles choked on the words, as if trying to gulp something.

“You can just call a priest and get it over with.”

Jack let out a sigh and he sat down next to Charles.

“Look, I’m sorry. I guess what I said was uncalled for. You had a rough life, and it beat you down. It’s not easy being out in the world.”

“It was…hard to say the least.”

“It is isn’t it? But let me tell you a little secret. These reports? Well, I still have one last report left for you. I saved it for last because it was different.”

“Different?”

“Let me set it up for you.”

Jack took a laptop out of his bag and set it down on the table. He opened the video player and it showed a paused clip of a drawing hanging on a wall. It was a drawing of an old cartoon character. Charles looked at the screen and his eyes widened.

“That’s…”

“Yep. It’s yours.”

“But how? Who?”

Jack pushed the play button and the video started. An old woman walked into the point of view of the camera. She walked slowly towards the drawing on the wall and gestured towards it.

“Charles drew that for me when he was about to go to university. He said not to worry about him because he was going to become a great artist in the city.”

“Mom…”

“Oh he always had a way with the pencil. This was his favorite character from an old cartoon. Err, what was it called again?”

“It’s Bob & Kerry, dear.” Said an old man as he walked into view.

“Dad…”

“Ah right, that’s the one. I’ve always loved this drawing of his. It’s like he personally made it for us haha. Anyway, Mr. Denver, is it okay if we show you around the house? It’s been such a long time since someone asked about Charlie, and you even had to go through the trouble of contacting us through this Skype program.”

“Thank the lord that son of mine set it up before he’d left. He said he would use it to contact us, but he never really did.”

“Oh I don’t mind ma’am. You can just take the laptop around the house and point the camera wherever.”

The video then showed a tour of the old couple’s house. In each room, there was always one drawing decorating it. All of them had a small plaque below them saying “Charles Watson.”

Then the camera came into a room that looked it had been vacant for a long time. The room was clean and everything inside of it was neatly organized. The walls of the room were covered by various drawings. Some were sketches. Some were paintings. All of them, had the same plaque below.

“Charles Watson.”

“Thank you for the tour Mr. and Mrs. Watson. It’s been a pleasure talking to you.”

“Oh no, thank you Mr. Denver. It’s been such a long time since we had a visitor asking for Charlie. Especially after he…passed on.” The old woman said softly, holding back her grief.

“If anything, you’re helping us to cope, and we sincerely appreciate it. We hope you’ll contact us again.” Said the old man as he shut down the camera, ending the video.

“See Charles? You did fulfill your dream. A lot of your drawings were on walls there, and they even had plaques with your name on them too.”

Charles looked down on the table, his hands were holding the table’s edges. His face was a chaotic mixture of emotions. He wanted to cry, and yet he was also happy, but most of all, he was relieved. Relieved, that his parents did not hate him for dropping out and taking another program. Relieved that there was someone who appreciated him. Relieved that there was someone who still thought of him.

“Mr. Denver?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. Thank you for showing me that not everyone’s forgotten about me.”

“Haha, well you can count on me not forgetting you anytime soon.”

“I would appreciate that very much. I…I think I’m ready to move on now.” Charles said, choking a bit.

“Yeah, keep safe, you hear.”

“I will Mr. Denver, thank you for everything. Until we meet again.” He said with a bright smile.

And with that, Charles’ hazy figure slowly dissipated, and in just a few moments, he was gone.

“Heh, you’re welcome.” Said Jack, bemused.

Jack walked out of the kitchen and into his living room. There, he walked towards the phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Well the kid tried his best, I should probably do too.”

The phone beeped for a few moments before a voice familiar to Jack answered.

“Hello? Diane? It’s me, Jack. It’s been a while yeah? Not since we met at court no. You want to get lunch together? You can bring the kids too.”

Can also be found on Wattpad.