Work Text:
"Ruskin, have you seen my newest shirt? It is gone."
Ruskin raised his head with some guilt when his friend's question hit his ears. He was sure that Charles somehow found out what he had done, but the other boy stared at him curiously and he seemed to not suspect anything. The uncomfortable feeling inside Ruskin grew when he answered.
"I'm sorry, but I didn't see it, Charles." His stomach knotted up for the lie that he needed to tell under his friend's watchful golden gaze. "It's not in the laundry. Maybe somewhere among your clothes?"
He hated himself for making his friend worry. He loved Charles more than anything in the world, he was the only person who ever cared for Ruskin and treated him nicely in the family that took him in from the street because of his skills in pickpocketing people. He didn't want to lie to him, but he had no other choice. He wanted this whole thing to be a surprise and he didn't want to ruin it.
Charles shook his head.
"It's not there." He stated and his voice became angry when he added. "Maybe my siblings stole it and burned it in the fireplace. One day, I will get revenge for it. I will ruin all of them." He swore bitterly and turned around, leaving Ruskin on his own. Ruskin felt the urge to run after him and comfort him somehow. He knew how much the injustice he suffered day to day hurt Charles. He was the youngest child of the Howell family, but nobody wanted him to be born. Nor his alcoholic father, nor his depressed mother, nor his aggressive siblings. Charles was an outcast, just like Ruskin, so he did everything he could to take care of his friend and make him happy.
But currently, he first needed to make him frustrated for it and it left him with a bad feeling.
It was actually Ruskin himself who stole Charles' beloved shirt. Charles got it a month ago and since he rarely got any clothes, he treasured it, taking it up rarely, only when he wanted to appear elegant because he had one of his strange moods. But Ruskin recently discovered a few holes in that shirt, so he decided that he would wash it and sew it in secret. He wanted to surprise Charles with the clean, repaired shirt. Unfortunately, his friend was looking for his shirt at the worst time which forced Ruskin to lie if he wanted to stick to his original plan.
Ruskin let out a sigh and continued working. He didn't like seeing Charles' disappointed expression, so he noted to himself that after he was done with the rest of the housework, he would sew his shirt immediately even if he needed to stay up late at night. He will give the shirt back to Charles as soon as he can and explain everything, hoping that his friend will understand his reasons and won't be too angry at him.
It was already midnight when Ruskin finished every other task he needed to do. This was often the time he went to sleep due to being treated as a servant. He was exhausted, he felt that his eyes could close at any moment, but he didn't forget about his promise. His own tired body didn't matter, only Charles' joy. Tomorrow, he will see him smile again.
Ruskin got the thread and the needle and he began to sew. It was harder to work, not being able to properly concentrate and he kept pricking himself with the needle. His exhaustion numbed the pain. An hour later, when he was finally done with all the holes and packed everything away, he just lay down in the blanket and he immediately fell asleep.
He was unaware that he fell asleep with Charles' shirt in his hands.
"....kin! Ruskin!"
Ruskin woke up in the morning to a familiar voice calling his name. He looked up and saw Charles' face above himself. He was still tired, but not enough to not notice how beautiful his friend was in the morning sunlight. The sunbeams danced in his curly hair and his golden eyes were glowing. He seemed to be enthusiastic for something and a moment later, Ruskin found out the reason for it.
"You found my shirt!"
"Oh."
Ruskin turned red when he realized that he was sleeping with the shirt for the whole night. Then the panic flooded his body. What if he made it wrinkled? But Charles looked perfectly satisfied as he took the shirt away and inspected it. A smile appeared on his face.
"Thank you, Ruskin. I was looking for it everywhere. I am glad that my siblings didn't burn it in the end." He noted with relief. Ruskin gulped. He knew that it was time to tell the truth to his friend.
"It was not your siblings who stole your shirt. It was actually… me." He sat up and started to talk awkwardly. He saw that Charles' eyes widened like he didn't understand anything.
"You?" He asked but there was no anger in his voice.
Ruskin nodded.
"I discovered a few holes and I wanted to sew them before you can notice them." He continued the confession. "I am sorry for stealing it and lying to you about it. Do you hate me now?" The question shyly slipped out of his mouth. He didn't take his eyes off Charles' face.
Charles let out a chuckle.
"Why would I ever hate you?" He reached out and gently touched Ruskin's hand whose fear immediately faded away feeling the soft fingers on his skin. "I am grateful for your work. My shirt is better than it was ever before." He gave a pleased glance at the shirt then he looked back at Ruskin. "But you didn't need to stay up late for that. I assume that you did that."
Ruskin smiled. Charles was happy and it was worth all the effort.
"It doesn't matter to me." He murmured. "Only you, Charles..."
His sentence got cut away as he let out a yawn. Charles watched him with some amusement, then he settled down next to Ruskin.
"I think that you should rest a little." He noted. "Mother and Father have already left and my siblings haven't woken up yet. I will stay here and make sure that no one disturbs your sleep. You deserve it after what you have done with my shirt."
Ruskin turned even redder when Charles began to draw him to his lap, making him lie down there. Ruskin saw Charles' face above himself and he soon felt his caressing hand. The happiness spread inside him. He felt safe and sound. No one was able to comfort him as much as Charles did.
"I am not tired..." he wanted to say, but his eyes closed before he could finish it. He could hear his friend's cheerful laugh before he fell back to sleep and it made him dream the sweetest dreams.