Andrew had always found Craig to be a particularly pretty man. He never seemed to look in any way unattractive.
Even in old uni photos, where his hair was terrible, and his shirts too big, he still found his face beautiful. He'd grown into his body now, and knew he was attractive.
That was half of the problem. He could have anyone he wanted, and usually did.
Then again, a lot had happened since university.
Andrew had never conceived of the possibility of The Chaser being anything other than a shitty satirical newspaper that would lead to nowhere and forever lose money.
Charles loved it far too much to care about profitability.
He also had delusions of grandeur no one had been able to comprehend, not least when he actually put them into action, and brought down the Australian government, replacing with what was,
upon appearances, a benevolent dictatorship.
Andrew had many, many, many problems with this. It wasn't just his desperate disinterest in politics, though that was part of it.
He'd been dragged along, promised clemency and protection, because Charles loved him. But perhaps it was easy to ignore what was going on outside when stuck in a palace.
Benevolence only went so far in Charles' mind. Holding power was vital, whatever the cost.
Andrew wasn't sure where this Charles had come from, and what frightened him the most was the possibility he'd been there the whole time, and Andrew had just refused to see it.
Life had become very surreal indeed.
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