Who: Edwin When: Morning, around 8 Where: His room, then onward to the morgue
It had been nice to be more than just miserable the night before. Edwin really wasn't much of a smoker, but he for sure appreciated that Chase had been on board for getting a little stoned, and letting him hang out for a bit. This wasn't the way that he had originally wanted to hang out with the guy, but misery loves company, and also, Chase had a really cute cat. They had ended up still pretty miserable, but at least they also got to feel a little floaty, and could laugh at each other's high quirks. And in the end, the pot had been a really good sleep aid for Edwin, who floated back up to his bedroom and passed out fairly quickly, without breaking back into tears.
All those rough feelings returned in the morning, when Edwin's giant bed was still empty aside from him, and there was no warm spot that might have held his boyfriend earlier before being vacated in favor of the gym or the kitchen. No, he was still alone. He rolled onto his side, laying there and telling himself not to cry again. His eyes filled anyway. It didn't seem like he would be falling back to sleep, either.
It took another few minutes for Edwin to roll himself out of bed, wrapping a normal-sized blanket around his shoulders once he was up and considering lighting the fireplace to keep the chill at bay. A shower would work, too, and he considered it as he headed to the bathroom for the usual morning routine. More than anything, he just wanted to wash his face, like he could trick himself out of crying. Apparently They had other plans.
Edwin's teeth were already brushed when he really registered the printed note on his sink counter, and he still had to rub some water in his eyes to focus on the words. Just the fact that it was there made him anxious. No one here had a printer. Memos didn't just come out like this. He took a deep breath, trying to hold back some sniffling, before he lifted the note and read it, several times.
"You will find something of interest to you in the morgue."
Edwin's first reaction was to hyperventilate. His second was to punch the mirror in front of him, which easily shattered, but Edwin was sure that he didn't have any good luck to worry about losing. The morgue. The morgue! He knew he was jumping to conclusions, and maybe there was a plethora of fun things that appealed to his gothic sensibilities down there.
But right now the only thing of interest to him was Oliver. And the morgue was a place for dead things. Oliver was dead. Oliver was dead. Oliver was dead.
Edwin collapsed in tears again, on his hands and knees on his bathroom floor. He knew he had to get up. He knew he needed to get down to the morgue, just to know, but right now it felt like someone had taken everything inside of him and squeezed. He couldn't breathe. Oliver was dead, and he couldn't breathe.
It took him feeling like he was going to throw up to get him on his feet, and while he hovered over the toilet bowl waiting for it to happen, it never did. He just felt nauseous, and scared, and suddenly driven to actually get down there. It would be good to know for sure. If it was true, then he knew he'd want the closure. He'd regret it if he sent down someone else. So, he got dressed, quickly. Heavy pants, long sleeves, a jacket, thick socks and boots. His phone and the note in a pocket. In his head, he could just hear Oliver saying how he wasn't dressed warm enough, and how he needed gloves and a scarf. He could remember all the times that they'd had the conversation, and how it had always stayed this sweet, pure little thing between them...
Maybe he would have paid more attention to that instinct, if he could just get past the thought that this was truly the only way he'd be able to hear Oliver from now on.