Jonathan shook his head and rubbed his face with his free hand. “I should have known better.”
“You know better now,” Charlie said, unable to bring himself to contradict Jonathan.
Jonathan peeked sideways, then softened into a smile. “You seem determined not to preserve yourself,” he said. “Why would you possibly wish to remain with me after all that?” He nodded out the train window at the rushing countryside, as if Fairford House were just beyond the horizon.
“You are clever and you are kind,” Charlie said.
Jonathan laughed humorlessly. “I am none of those things. I am blind and selfish.”
Perhaps on the surface, but Charlie had seen the hope and the yearning underneath all Jonathan’s faults. He’d seen theagony of the neglect he’d received in the past and all the ways the coldness he’d been shown by his family had damaged him. He saw all that and Jonathan’s conscience and natural inclination to be wicked and happy, too.
“You are handsome,” Charlie said after studying Jonathan for a while. He shrugged one shoulder, and when Jonathan gaped at him, he burst into a tired smile. “You’re good at fucking.”
Jonathan blinked, then laughed loudly. “Is that why you’re still here with me?” he asked, the warmth in his smile returning. “Because I fuck you well?”
“I need it,” Charlie said. He intended to be glib, but the words came out as serious. “I am too wild without you.”
Jonathan’s expression changed. Instead of turning grave, though, the warmth in his eyes began to smolder. “I know,” he said, cupping the side of Charlie’s face. “I’ve seen what you have in you. It excites me. It has from the moment you looked up at me from the gutter.”
Charlie’s heart pounded. He put his teacup aside and slipped off the seat, shifting to kneel between Jonathan’s feet, his hands resting on Jonathan’s thighs. He didn’t have the words for how he felt, so he bowed his head the way he’d seen the boy being trained in the parlor at The Zagreus Den do.
“Charlie.” Jonathan spoke his name like a caress, sweeping his hand around Charlie’s face. “Why? You are brilliant. You could give yourself to anyone in the entire world. You should give yourself to someone worthy. Why me?”
Charlie looked up at him. The feelings within him were far too big to express, but he knew he had to.
“You were kind to me,” he said, the words threatening to stick in his throat. “You didn’t have to be, but you were.”
“Anyone can be kind,” Jonathan argued, cupping Charlie’s face with both hands.
Charlie shook his head. “Too many men are not,” he said. “And….” He was less certain how to put his next feelings into words. They were too powerful and far too dangerous.
“And?” Jonathan prompted him, leaning closer. He was almost close enough to kiss him.
Charlie swallowed, holding Jonathan’s gaze as if it were a real lifeline between them. “And you need me,” he whispered.
Jonathan’s sly look dissolved into something potent and almost hurt. “I do need you,” he whispered. “I am lost without you. I need you to guide me.”
Charlie breathed those words in, letting them reverberate through him. “I need you to own me,” he replied as intensely as Jonathan had spoken.
They stayed still like that in the train car for several seconds, eyes locked, souls entwining. Finally, Jonathan let out a breath, dropped his head, and laughed. “It’s the two of us together now, I suppose,” he said.
Tears stung at Charlie’s eyes, and he smiled. He had no more words left, so he leaned forward, resting his head in Jonathan’s lap.
They stayed like that until the train whistle sounded that they were approaching the station. Their quiet moment was over, and the need to keep themselves safe took over again.
No one was waiting to drag them away in chains at the London station, which was a good thing. They even managed to hire a carriage to take them back to the shop in Marylebone.
More miraculous still, Jonathan’s shop and studio did not seem to be disturbed at all. A few notices from potential customers had been slipped under the door and half of the food in the kitchen had spoiled, but Hammond had not sent men after them.
“He hasn’t sent anyone after usyet,” Jonathan said as they unpacked the plates and lenses in the kitchen. “I won’t fool myself into thinking he isn’t coming for us as soon as possible.”
“What do we do?” Charlie asked, twice as anxious as he would have been because he suddenly felt as if he was in danger in the one place he’d once felt safe.
Jonathan rubbed a hand across his face, then pushed his fingers through his hair as he glanced around the kitchen. “We have to develop the plates immediately,” he said, gathering up the boxes from the table once he’d made his decision. “We might only have hours before someone comes after us. We need to make the best use of them that we can.”
That was how the two of them ended up in the cellar darkroom before bathing, before eating, and before sleeping. They worked tirelessly, putting each plate through the development process as quickly as they dared. There were dozens of photographs to develop, which stretched all of the shop’s resources, but they didn’t have a choice.
In between the stages of the development process, Charlie and Jonathan each took turns bathing and napping. Charlie could hardly sleep, though. He could feel time running out. Jonathan knew it, too. In his time away from the darkroom, he sorted through all of his possessions, making piles of things he needed to take away with him and things he merely wanted to take. The whole thing had a dreadful air of finality to it.
