After five hours of absolute cinema, the finale credits rolled over an over-the-top monologue.
Charlie had been completely glued to the screen throughout—laughing at the absurd gags, gasping at the shocking reveals, and clutching the pillow every time a character she liked was in danger.
Her cheeks were flushed red as she hiccuped. For some strange reason, despite the lemonade having no alcohol, Charlie still ended up in a drunk-like state.
Could one even get drunk on carbonation?
Prince shook his head, not bothering to think too deeply about it. He leaned back with his beer, smirking now and then, occasionally tossing in a dry comment that made her giggle harder than she had at some of the jokes in the show.
Neither of them noticed the gap on the couch closing.
Somewhere between Charlie leaning forward to grab more popcorn and Prince stretching his arm along the backrest, their sides had ended up brushing.
By the time the last scene faded to black, Charlie's head was resting lightly against his shoulder.
It wasn't until the credits rolled and the theme music kicked in that they both snapped back to reality.
Charlie blinked, sat up a little too fast, and cleared her throat. "Oh, um… wow, what an ending, huh?"
Prince looked at her for a second, then shifted slightly away. "Yeah. Hell of a finale."
For a beat, neither moved. Then Charlie's cheeks reddened, and she busied herself gathering the empty popcorn bowl. "I think maybe we should… you know, rest. It's been a helluva day, after all."
Prince nodded in agreement. "You're right."
She tugged a blanket over Dazzle, who had long since passed out in a little ball on the loveseat. Tucking him in like a child, she whispered softly, "Goodnight, Dazzle," before heading up the loft steps with Prince following behind.
The Alaskan king-sized bed was as big as it looked—practically big enough to host a football team. Still, Prince grabbed a few pillows and placed them squarely in the middle. "Divider," he said flatly, like it was law.
Charlie climbed into her side, pulling the covers over her. She turned toward him with a tired but genuine smile. "Goodnight, Prince."
He nodded, getting into bed before snapping his fingers twice.
The lights automatically turned off, and the room went silent.
...
Only, neither of them could sleep.
Minutes ticked by. The sounds of the city filtered in through the wide window. Finally, Charlie broke the silence first. Her voice sounded softer in the dark. "Hey… can I ask you something?"
Prince didn't answer right away, so she pressed on. "Do you think what I'm doing is redundant? For… for having this dream of sinners getting a second chance to go to Heaven? Trying to redeem sinners, build something good out of all this… mayhem. Do you think it's childish and naive?"
Another long pause. Then Prince spoke, without hesitation. "Yes. Very much."
Her heart sank a little at the bluntness. She bit her lip, but before she could reply, he continued.
"But," he said, his voice shifting slightly, "that's because it's been deemed impossible. And when something is deemed impossible, the first person who tries to change it always looks like a fool. People who try to break the system are mocked, laughed at, ridiculed for daring to believe in something that goes against the status quo. But then…" He trailed off for a moment, as if weighing his words.
"But then, when someone actually pulls it off—when someone does the impossible—the same people who mocked them have nothing left to say. Because what can they say? It's already been done. And no one can take that away."
Charlie turned her head slightly, eyes widened in the dark.
"So yes, princess," Prince said, almost reminiscent, "to me, as a sinner who's seen how Hell works, your dream is impossible… but maybe…" His voice dipped, almost reluctant. "Maybe you'll be the one to make impossible things possible."
Charlie's eyes stung. She blinked, wiping at her face, but the tears slipped out anyway. This would count as the second time she had cried in front of him now. But they weren't sad tears.
They were… hopeful. Her chest warmed, her eyes gained a new light, and she smiled to herself in the dark. "Thank you," she whispered.
Prince grunted, like he hadn't meant to say half of that. Internally, he cursed himself. What the hell am I even saying? Fuck, the beer's messing with me.
Charlie rolled onto her side, facing the faint glow of his visor. The light was dimmed, almost shut off completely, so she couldn't see him—unless she used her night vision, which she very much didn't want to do. She wanted to pretend he was just… there. Beside her.
"Goodnight, Prince."
He exhaled, muttering, "Night." And soon, sleep came for the both of them—but only briefly.
About twenty minutes later, without either realizing how, they had drifted closer and closer together. The pillow divider was no longer an iron wall but a thin suggestion. Charlie's hand brushed against his arm, and Prince stirred awake, though he didn't move her.
Ten minutes later, Charlie broke the barrier completely. In her half-dreaming state, she shifted, slipping over to his side of the bed and curling up against his chest. Her limbs tangled around his, her head nestled just beneath his chin.
Prince's visor flickered faintly back on as he stirred. He glanced down at the princess asleep on his chest, her expression peaceful, her breath steady. He could've moved her back, set her firmly on her side, rebuilt the wall between them. That would've been the logical thing to do. The smart thing.
But as he looked at her, warmth spread through him—something he hadn't felt in years, maybe centuries. The warmth of another person so close. The weight of someone trusting him enough to fall asleep in his arms.
He sighed, rolling onto his side and pulling her closer, her delicate frame fitting snug against his as his arm wrapped around her waist. He buried his face slightly in her hair, the scent of soap lingering, and let his breathing slow. It felt almost… natural.
What he didn't know was that Charlie had also woken up at one point. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, catching the faint glow of his visor.
She felt his arm wrapped gently around her waist, holding her against him, not in a possessive, uncomfortable way, but in a firm, reassuring way.
Her natural rosy cheeks flushed redder, her heart skipping a beat, and for the briefest second she wondered if this—this closeness—was dangerous, if she should slip back to her side before he noticed.
But instead of pulling away, she let herself drift, leaning into his chest. She couldn't help herself...
It just felt right.
For the first time in a long while, charlie didn't feel so alone.