Chapter Text
Ed Teach didn’t see any of this coming.
He hadn’t put much thought into tagging along with some of his older friends to Senior Skip Day; it seemed like it’d be better than going and staring at the teacher for three of his classes. School is such a bore anyway, every period taking about a bazillion years to finish.
And he loves a good amusement park ride. Loves the rush and freedom, even if it’s temporary. He’ll take any break from the grind of school and work. It doesn’t matter if he gets dinged for the absence; he hasn’t missed so much that he risks getting suspended, and his grades are good enough that losing a few participation points is no big deal.
But he sure didn’t expect to come home from Cedar Point with a date to prom. Especially not with Stede Bonnet.
In hindsight, it’s odd they never talked before, since they’re both from Aotearoa. But Stede was always either scurrying around like a freaked-out rabbit expecting to get eaten, or he was off in another world and didn’t seem aware of his surroundings at all. But Stede was cute, with his messy blond hair and his attempts to wear cool clothes that never looked quite right and his genuine smile whenever he noticed Ed looking at him.
And…it was weird, but…Stede makes him feel…he’s not even sure what it is. Safe? Is that it? “Safe” is not a way Ed gets to feel, ever. Not as a little kid, with his dick of a dad on the brink of one of his rages at any moment. Not now, with the minefield of walking around his high school as the outsider he is. Brown, poor, not straight, from the other side of the world. So many strikes against him. So many reasons he doesn’t fit in.
But Stede was unexpectedly willing to buck expectations for him. Ed only asked if Stede meant to take him to prom as a date instead of a friend on a whim. He didn’t think Stede would actually be bold enough to make it a date. But that kid? Clearly a little unhinged, and Ed likes it.
So Ed thinks about him all weekend: what it felt like to hold his hand when Stede was scared. The friendly sparkle in his eyes when they talked and joked. The stunned look on his face when Ed gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before they went their separate ways. All of it felt…well…good. Gives him all kinds of squirmy, warm gooeyness inside when he thinks about it.
Yeah, he likes Stede.
And when Monday comes, and Ed walks through the door for English class and sees Stede at his usual desk, watching the door, and his face lights up when Ed comes in—like he’s the tooth fairy or some shit—damn, it feels good. Great, even. Ed grins back at him and takes his usual seat. If he shows off a little more than usual, volunteering his interpretations of the Emily Dickinson poems they read for homework, well—that’s just because poetry is easy-peasy, puddin’ and fuckin’ pie. Not trying to impress anybody or anything.
After class, they meet up in the hallway; they don’t have a ton of time before they have to get to their next classes, but they have a couple minutes to catch up. “Hey,” Stede says, with another brilliant smile. It’s like actual sunshine; that warm and bright. Ed feels it sinking in all the way to his bones.
He smiles back. Ed’s not used to feeling this much, let alone letting it show, but with Stede, he can’t help it. “Hey.”
“So…you wanna come over to my house sometime?” Stede asks, jumping right to what he was apparently waiting to say. “Watch some music videos, like we talked about?”
Oof. Now things’ll get a little complicated. “Sure,” Ed replies. “But…here’s the thing.” It’s hard to be the one to throw cold water on Stede’s plan, but he has to: “I work every day after school.”
“Oh,” Stede says, crestfallen.
Ugh. Ed hates seeing him look so sad. He quickly runs through the options in his mind. “But!” he adds, hurriedly. “I can probably trade a shift, yeah? Try to free up an afternoon later this week.”
Stede’s expression perks right back up again at this news. “Awesome. If you can work it out, I can tell my parents you’re coming over to do homework. I mean, I guess we could do homework. But not just that.”
“Yeah.” Ed smiles; Stede’s excitement about this plan is so very sweet. “I’ll let you know.” Stede’s giving him a look, now, like he’d hug him or kiss him right there in the hallway if he could.
Ed’s really trying not to get carried away or fall too fast, but Stede’s so disarming that it’s a struggle. So Ed gives him a few pats on the shoulder before they go their separate ways. Nothing that would seem out-of-the-ordinary between friends, but something that means more to the two of them than anyone else knows.
Fuck. Ed’s got to be careful. These are already way too many feelings to be having. Stede’s a boy, and he’s a senior, and he’s rich; there’s so many reasons this might blow up in his face.
But there’s no denying that Ed’s already getting sucked into Stede’s whirlpool. How much he can keep his head above water remains to be seen.
Notes:
This has been in the works all summer—this story took on a life of its own!—but for a number of reasons, it made sense to wait until after RBB month to begin posting. And here we are! Chapters will drop on Mondays and Fridays unless I need to delay for some reason. I can’t wait for you to see what mermaidinn has been cooking up!
The chapter total is an estimate; 16 chapters are drafted, and I don’t foresee any problems getting the rest written in time to keep posting without interruption ❤️
Chapter Text
Ed manages to trade some hours to work a double shift on Friday and free up Thursday afternoon; it’ll suck to skate around in the grease at Wendy’s for twice as long, but it’s worth it for how thrilled Stede looks when he tells him. With luck he’ll have a better situation soon: he’s interviewed for a couple of other, better jobs, so he’s crossing his fingers one will pan out.
But for now, fast food it is, and the double shift is future Ed’s problem. After school on Thursday, Ed and Stede meet up at Stede’s locker, and they walk to the parking lot together so Stede can drive them to his house. Stede chatters away—Ed thinks it’s something about birds; he’s having trouble paying attention—but at least to himself, Ed can’t lie: he’s nervous.
And for good reason. As soon as they walk in the door and Stede introduces Ed to his mum, she gives him exactly the appraising, judgmental look he’s been expecting. Fucking great.
It’s not like some version of this isn’t a daily occurrence. Americans see his skin color, obviously, but the thing is: they don’t automatically know what box to put him in. But the Bonnets are Pākehā, so they know exactly where Ed fits, with his Māori mother and his (absent) white father. He knows precisely how much they dismiss him; how they think of him as less than, as “half-caste.” He heard it more than once before he and his mum left Aotearoa.
Oh, Stede’s mum is perfectly polite on the surface. There’s nothing overt about it, and given what Stede already told him about his parents, none of it surprises him. But it grates all the same.
“Let me show you my room,” Stede says, excitedly. “And then we can get some ice cream and go downstairs and watch some TV? Yeah?”
Ed nods. “Yeah.” He lets Stede lead him upstairs to his room. Once they go through the door, Ed immediately takes in the fancy hardwood bed and the framed prints on the wall; it looks weirdly formal, like a movie set. He’d never guess it was a teenager’s room. “My mum won’t let me stick anything to the wall, so that’s all stuff she put up,” he explains, catching Ed’s puzzled look. “But let me show you my collections!”
Stede goes to his shelves, and Ed sits down on the rug nearby. He watches as Stede pulls out plastic tub after plastic tub with all sorts of treasures in them: seashells, feathers, fossils and polished stones, little erasers that look like other things (food, candy, Sanrio characters). He even has a small box full of buttons: plastic ones, mother-of-pearl ones, funny novelty ones, metal ones with raised patterns. “I love collecting things,” Stede says dreamily. “I dunno why. But it’s fun.”
“Look at all this brilliant stuff,” Ed says, with genuine admiration. It’s so fun and quirky and completely Stede. “Did you collect stickers, too?”
Stede grins so widely that his dimple pops out; it may or may not give Ed a butterfly or twelve in his stomach. “You bet! I still have books of ‘em from when I was, like, ten.”
“Can I see?”
Stede looks shyly pleased. “Of course.” He puts the tubs away, then goes into his closet and brings down a photo album. Stede sets it down facing Ed and opens it; each page has a pull-back plastic sheet covering the stickers underneath. “I loved trading for the scratch-and-sniffs,” he says, as Ed begins to leaf through. “I had to get all the best scents.”
“Can I sniff a couple?” Ed asks. “Won’t if you don’t want me to.” He can tell they’re Stede’s treasures, and he doesn’t want to overstep.
“Sure.” There’s the tiniest bit of hesitation in Stede’s voice, as if he’s not yet certain how far he can trust Ed. But his answer came quickly; Stede seems willing to give it a go. “Just don’t overdo it,” he adds. So Ed peels back the plastic, and gives a few stickers one scritch each: root beer, gingerbread, grape. It’s amazing how strong they smell, probably because Stede has kept them so well protected.
“Yum,” Ed says, carefully smoothing the plastic back down. He flips through the rest of the pages, looking at all the prismatic and holographic and puffy stickers, all artfully arranged and perfectly preserved. “These are awesome,” he says, closing the album and handing it back to Stede.
“Thanks,” Stede says, beaming. It’s so easy to make Stede happy. Ed reckons he knows what that means: not only has Stede probably not had anyone to share stuff with who’d appreciate it, but most likely, he’s been made fun of for his interests on the regular. Ed knows very well what dicks people are. He could fight ‘em all.
As Stede goes to put the album back up on the shelf in his closet, Ed stands up and gets a bit nosy, poking around the top of Stede’s chest of drawers. In a small dish, he finds something interesting: Stede’s class ring. Ed peers at it closely. Along with the name of their high school and the year—1995—it has the symbol for strings on one side, debate on the other, and a sparkly aquamarine gem on top. Ed tries it on. It’s too loose for the ring finger on Ed’s right hand, but it fits nicely on his index finger.
As he holds up his hand to inspect how it looks, he knows this is the only time he’ll wear one of these. His mum could never afford to buy him one, and he doesn’t make enough money at Wendy’s to want to get himself one; he has other priorities for what he’s been able to save.
“That looks better on you than me,” Stede says, catching him playing dress-up with the ring. “You should hang onto it.”
“What?” Ed says, humorously, as he starts to pull it off. “Like we’re in an old movie, and I’m your girl?”
But before he can twist the ring fully off his finger, Stede places his hands on his, very gently, and stops him. Their eyes meet and lock. Stede’s are wide and serious and so lovely; brownish-green flecked with gold. “Yes,” is all Stede says. There’s no trace of mischief on his face. He means it.
Ed takes his left hand away, leaving his right in both of Stede’s. Stede eases the ring back past his second knuckle to the base of his finger, where, apparently, it belongs.
It’s like time stops for a moment—just hangs there in the warmth and gentleness of Stede’s touch; in the significance of what this means—before the clock kicks in again. “C’mon,” Stede says, with a friendly smile, snapping back into host mode. “Let’s get some ice cream.”
***
As they head downstairs, Ed’s insides are a riot of emotions; he tries not to think about all of it too much. It’s too overwhelming. He sets it all aside for the time being, until he’s alone and can reflect more calmly.
There are more pressing concerns, after all. As he reaches the bottom step, Ed turns Stede’s ring so the gemstone is on the palm side of his hand, so it’s not clear what it is. Neither of them needs Stede’s mum asking questions about why he has it; he especially doesn’t need Stede’s parents to think he stole it.
But Stede’s mum isn’t even in the kitchen when they get there, to Ed’s secret relief. Stede goes to the cabinet and pulls out bowls; they’re pretty, an eggshell blue, with a crackly glaze on them. Stede goes to the freezer and rifles around. “I think we only have one kind,” he says apologetically. “Breyer’s, vanilla fudge swirl.” He sets it on the counter and closes the freezer door.
Ed makes a face. “No rocky road or anything? That’s so boring.”
Stede laughs a short laugh; there’s some bitterness to it. “My parents are super boring. Next time we’ll stop by Meijer’s on the way home and grab whatever you want.” He thinks for a moment, and then his face lights up. “Ooh–-I have an idea, though.” He goes to a cabinet that seems to be a pantry—Ed’s mum would love to have so many cabinets—and pulls out a bottle with a triumphant look on his face. “Magic Shell,” he declares.
Ed grins. “Now you’re talking.”
Stede scoops the ice cream, then hands the Magic Shell to Ed, letting him go first. He squeezes and squeezes the bottle of chocolatey goo until there’s not one visible bit of ice cream in the bowl. Stede looks at him with wry amusement, but doesn’t say anything. “What?” Ed asks, innocently.
“Nothing, Mr. Sweet Tooth.” Stede takes the bottle and drizzles his Magic Shell in dainty, criss-crossing lines, like he’s some kind of chef.
“Aren’t we fancy,” Ed says, amused.
“Mmhmm. We are.” Stede grins at him. “C’mon. Let’s take this to the family room downstairs.”
***
Stede’s house has a cozy finished basement, with wood paneling on the walls and a cushy sofa in front of the tv; it’s less formal than the rooms Ed has glimpsed so far. He and Stede sit down on the sofa next to each other—not right on top of each other, but not too far apart, either. Stede grabs the remote, turns on the tv, and clicks over to MTV. While they eat their cold snack, they watch TLC’s “Waterfalls,” with its state-of-the-art watery animation; the house party of it all in Montell Jordan’s “This Is How We Do It”; Live’s “Lightning Crashes,” with all of its drama and eerie imagery; the bullfighting video for Madonna’s “Take A Bow” that Stede brought up on Senior Skip Day at Cedar Point; all sorts of new and fascinating sights, interspersed with ads for Pantene Pro-V and Shout laundry detergent and Always with wings. Ed’s loving it: it’s fun to sit here with Stede, getting caught up on a part of pop culture he normally has no access to, both of them commenting enthusiastically on everything they like and dislike. The ice cream is cold and sweet; Ed has a momentary flash in his mind of what it would be like to taste it on Stede’s tongue.
Ed knows Stede likes him. But does he ever imagine that kind of thing with Ed? What does Stede want?
Ed doesn’t know. But it’s tough to sit here, when Stede is so cute and so close, and not put a tiny feeler out there. So he slides his foot over, closing the distance bit by bit, until his foot is touching Stede’s. When he makes contact, Stede notices immediately, turning to look at him. The slow smile that spreads on his face is both shy and bold. Stede’s finished his ice cream, and his bowl and spoon are in his lap; he slowly reaches his hand over to where Ed’s is resting on the sofa cushion and hooks his pinky over Ed’s.
Butterflies again. Ed smiles at Stede to encourage him, to let him know that his touch is extremely welcome, and also because he simply can’t help it. He’s about to go for it—to unhook his pinky so he can take Stede’s hand for real, and who knows what else after that—but they both hear the telltale sound of the stairs creaking as someone starts walking downstairs. Stede quickly moves his hand back; Ed shifts his foot back to his own space.
It’s Stede’s mum. “Aren’t you two supposed to be doing homework?” she says, disapprovingly. “You’re down here, wasting your time with music videos?”
“We were just about to start our homework,” Stede replies, in a placating kind of way, as if he’s used to managing her disapproval. “C’mon,” he says to Ed, as he shuts off the tv. “Let’s go get our stuff.”
Ed follows Stede back upstairs; they grab their backpacks and sit at Stede’s dining table to tackle their Calculus homework (Stede) and Social Studies homework (Ed). Yeah, the work has to get done, but there’s nothing fun about this. Ed feels ill at ease, with Stede’s mum walking by every so often, making sure they’re on task. No wonder Stede so often looks like a prey animal at school. Even at home, he’s always being monitored and watched.
And so, when Stede’s mum comes to say it’s time to set the table for dinner, and Stede invites him to stay for the meal, “Nah,” Ed replies. “My mum’ll be expecting me. Thanks, though.” It’s true, basically; he didn’t actually tell her where he was going to be this afternoon.
Stede looks disappointed, but: “I’ll run you home right now,” he says.
Ed packs up his things and politely thanks Mrs. Bonnet; as they’re leaving, Stede’s dad arrives home. “Hey, Dad. This is my friend Ed,” Stede says; there’s a note of restraint in his voice, as if he’s being particularly careful with what he says. “He’s in my AP English class.”
“Good to meet you, Mr. Bonnet,” Ed says, engaging in the polite fiction demanded by the situation. He knows this man has been unkind to Stede, and that’s enough to make him Ed’s enemy. And the feeling seems pretty damn mutual: where Ed felt the frostiness in Mrs. Bonnet’s manner, Mr. Bonnet’s attitude verges on openly hostile. Ed imagines it was no accident that Stede brought up his academic credentials, but for Stede’s dad, it doesn’t seem to matter.
“Yes. Hello,” is all he says, brusquely; his manner couldn’t be more dismissive. Stede hustles Ed out the door; they both heave a sigh of relief when they get into Stede’s car.
“Now you know why I call my car The Revenge,” Stede says dryly. “God I hate that man. I’m sorry he was so rude to you.”
“Don’t sweat it, mate,” Ed responds, reassuringly. “Not your fault.”
Stede begins navigating to the apartment complex where Ed lives. “I can’t wait to move out when I go to college. I have to get away from them.”
“Yeah. Totally.” Ed doesn’t say how much the thought of this bums him out. You’re the first good thing that’s happened to me in this place, he wants to say. I want you to be free. But I don’t want you to go.
“I wish I could bring you with me,” Stede says wistfully, as if he's been reading Ed’s mind. Although on second thought, it’s even better if he wasn’t. Just having similar feelings about Ed as Ed is about Stede. Ed loves that idea.
“Gonna try to graduate in December,” Ed says. “Be good to be done with high school, anyway.”
The suburb where they both live is not a large one, so it only takes a few minutes to get to Ed’s apartment complex; they've already arrived. Stede parks in one of the spaces near Ed’s building so he can get out. “I’m really glad this worked out,” he says, with a soft smile.
Ed grins back. “Me, too.” It’s another moment that hangs in the air between them; this time, the tension is cut by Ed’s mum pulling up into a nearby parking space. “That’s my mum,” he says, unbuckling his seat belt. “Gotta go.”
Stede nods. “I’ll call you about prom plans this weekend, okay?”
“Sounds good.” Ed reaches over and gives Stede a pat on the shoulder, adding a quick squeeze at the end, and Stede smiles. The sweetest look on the sweetest face.
Trying not to fall head over heels for Stede is…well, it’s a work in progress, let’s put it that way.
Notes:
Taika has talked in interviews about hearing the term “half-caste” growing up, which is why I include it here. I’m not Indigenous, but I am biracial, and I am very familiar with the “I don’t know where to fit you in my scheme of things” of it all.
Chapter Text
Stede is floating—absolutely floating—after having Ed over at his house. He doesn’t notice a single thing his parents say to him that evening; they could be speaking a foreign language, for all he knows. He’s full of so many swoony romantic feelings that he hardly knows what to do with himself. He thought he had crushes along the way before, but none of them felt anything like this. The way every glance, every quick touch seems to mean something. The way his whole being vibrates like a harmonic when Ed is near. He doesn’t even want to write down all the thoughts swirling through his mind: they’re too special, too delicate, and he doesn’t trust his parents at all. Even if he were to record these soap-bubble-fragile, rainbowy thoughts in his locked diary, could that be safe enough for something as precious as this? So Stede keeps them tucked away safely in his heart.
On Saturday, he calls Ed up to make prom plans, since it’s coming up in a week. “I can pay for your tux rental,” he offers, trying to be sensitive to Ed’s financial limitations.
“Don’t need you to,” Ed replies, a bit shortly. “Already handled it.”
Stede knows being less well-off is a sore spot for Ed; maybe his offer made things worse and not better. Stede can’t help but grimace, relieved that Ed can’t see him right now. “All right! I’m sorry,” he says, quickly. “Didn’t mean to overstep. But I’m paying for dinner and our share of the limo. Because this is a real date. Okay?”
“Okay.” Ed’s voice is gentler this time. Stede’s relieved; he doesn’t want money, of all things, to be something that comes between them.
They plan for Stede to come to Ed’s place before prom and leave his car there, so the limo will only have to make one stop to pick them both up; it’ll also give them a chance to see each other beforehand without dealing with Stede’s parents. Ed’s mum will be there, but she doesn’t object to them meeting up at their apartment; Stede’s the friend who invited Ed to prom, after all.
The weekend feels so slow. Ed has to work, so they don’t have much time to talk. But since Stede doesn’t want to raise too many red flags with his parents anyway, maybe it’s for the best. At least he knows they’ll see each other at school.
On Monday, Stede waits impatiently for Ed to get to English class. When he arrives, they exchange fond smiles; Stede takes a quick look to see if his ring is on Ed’s hand, but it isn’t. Stede can’t help it: he’s hit by a pang of sadness, even though he knows very well it’s not reasonable to feel that way. For one thing, Ed’s a junior, not a senior; no one gets rings until they’re about to graduate, so Ed wearing one would raise a lot of questions. Stede’s rational mind knows this. Too bad the other part of himself is louder—the part that lives and dies by how Ed feels about him.
Somehow he gets through class, half paying attention to what he’s supposed to be learning about figurative language. He and Ed linger outside the classroom door afterward to chat, of course. Again and again, it’s on the tip of Stede’s tongue to ask about the ring, but he doesn’t want to come off as overly needy. So he keeps it inside, tries to keep their banter light, but he can’t help it. He does feel a bit hurt.
“Oh, hey,” Ed says, when they’re about to go their separate ways so they’re not late to class. “Check it out.” He tugs a thin gold chain out from inside the collar of his t-shirt. To Stede’s utter delight, there it is: dangling from the chain is his ring. His heart might actually explode into a giant, glittery burst of confetti, seeing it.
Stede beams so widely it feels like his cheeks might split. “Oh, Ed,” he whispers, touching it gently. “That makes me so happy.”
Ed grins back, then tucks it inside his shirt again. It’s their secret; their lovely, thrilling secret. Now Stede knows for sure that his insistence that he keep it did matter to Ed. That he himself matters. So even though Ed has to work and they won’t be able to spend time together before prom, just knowing Ed’s out there, with Stede’s ring close to his heart, is more than enough.
Stede’s flying so high on this knowledge that he doesn’t even notice when Jack walks by and snorts loudly at his Far Side “Midvale School for the Gifted” t-shirt. “Nice shirt,” he says insincerely, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Mm? Thanks,” Stede says as he walks off to orchestra, not having heard a word.
***
When next Saturday—prom day—arrives, Stede goes to pick up the boutonnière he ordered for Ed from the florist; he stashes it in the refrigerator behind the milk and orange juice. The last thing he wants is to have to answer questions about it. His parents know he’s going to prom with a group of friends (they’ve sighed numerous times over this) and that he’s going to be picked up from a friend’s house; that’s all they need to know.
Stede shaves and showers, dresses in his white dress shirt and black tux, and does his hair carefully. When he’s finished, he dabs on a bit of cologne given to him by an aunt, feeling both fancy and self-conscious doing so. He can see the excitement all over his face when he looks in the mirror, in the sparkle of his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks; he’ll have to remember to tone it down until he escapes.
Once he’s ready to leave the house, his mum fusses with his bow tie, making sure it’s straight. “If only you had a nice girl to take to the dance,” she mourns.
“It’s all right, Mum,” Stede assures her. “I’ll have more fun this way.” She looks at him as if he has three heads.
But it’s too late now, so she doesn’t press the issue. And little does she know that all he's doing is telling the strict truth. “Just let me take a picture first,” she says.
As she goes to get her camera, Stede dashes to the fridge, grabs the boutonnière, then hoofs it out to The Revenge to stash it. He’s just hustling to get back to the front steps to hang out oh-so-nonchalantly, like he wasn’t doing anything suspicious, when she reappears.
“Your hair,” she says, disapprovingly, trying to comb it with her fingers. “I was gone for less than a minute. How did you manage to do this?”
“I like it messy, Mum!” He leans out of her reach, taking advantage of being a bit taller than she is. He’s not a baby anymore, for god’s sake. “Can you just take your picture and be done with it?”
She sighs and gestures to him to stand beneath a tree. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands; just let them dangle? Clasp them in front of himself? Strike a jaunty pose? So he stands, rather stiffly, trying to smile how normal people smile, as she snaps a couple of photos.
As soon as she’s done, Stede can’t get away fast enough. “Bye, Mum!” he shouts, getting into his car, fastening his seatbelt, and taking off as quickly as he can.
Finally, finally, he gets to see Ed and take him to prom. As his date. His real, actual date. It’s nothing short of a miracle.
***
Stede drives over to the apartment complex and parks carefully in one of the visitor spaces. He grabs the boutonnière before getting out of his car, then walks to Ed’s building and buzzes up to the Teach residence. His heart is pounding out a presto beat. Not only is he impatient to see Ed, but this is also the first time he’ll meet Ed’s mum. No pressure.
He hears the click of the front door unlocking. Stede opens it, then climbs the stairs to the second floor and locates their apartment.
Stede takes a deep breath. He knocks; a few seconds later, the door opens. It’s his sweet Ed, big brown eyes warm and bright, curly hair pulled back tidily into a half-ponytail. Stede’s eyes go wide: he’s wearing a white tux jacket with black lapels. Stede wouldn’t like that look on just anyone, but on Ed? That’s a different story.
“Oh, Ed,” he gasps. “You look amazing.”
Ed grins, obviously pleased at the impression he’s made. “You do too.”
Stede returns a somewhat lopsided smile. “My outfit’s so boring, compared to yours.” It’s true; his mum insisted he wear the most traditional of looks for the occasion.
“Nah,” Ed replies, shaking his head. “Just classic.” They’re still standing in the entryway, smiling fondly at each other, when Ed’s mum comes into the room. Stede tears his eyes away from Ed so he can say hello to his mum. She has dark, wavy hair like Ed’s, though hers is lightly streaked with grey, and she has a sweet, tired face.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Teach,” Stede says politely, sticking out his hand.
She takes it, smiling in a kind way at his formality. “Glad to meet you, Stede.” To both of them, she says, “We should get you two outside and take some pictures before the limo comes, shouldn’t we?”
“Yeah.” Ed smiles. “We should.”
“I’ll load up the camera,” Ed’s mum says. “Got some fresh film just for this.” She leaves the room temporarily to get ready for their mini photoshoot.
Stede stays where he is, in the entryway; Ed’s mum is wearing house slippers and Ed’s in his socks, so he doesn’t want to walk around their house in his shoes. But there’s no need to go anywhere anyway; they have important matters to attend to. “Let me pin your boutonnière on,” Stede offers, with a smile. He’s been looking forward to this part so much. He carefully opens the clamshell he’s holding and shows Ed the flowers he custom ordered: A purple dendrobium orchid flanked by several stephanotis. He knew Ed needed something out of the ordinary, hence the orchid, but Stede also wanted a flower that would smell sweet. (And is he aware that stephanotis is known as the wedding flower? If so, that’s his little secret.)
“Stede. It’s gorgeous,” Ed says, his voice breaking slightly.
And that reaction? Gives Stede all the confidence in the world. “It’s what you deserve,” he replies, his voice low. He takes out the boutonnière and hands Ed the clamshell so he can use both hands to pin the flowers to Ed’s lapel. It’s the perfect splash of color against the stark black and white of Ed's outfit. Once Stede’s done, Ed holds his jacket against his chest and gazes down at it. “Look at that,” Stede whispers. “You wear fine things well.”
Ed looks back at Stede through his lashes, breathing out a half-laugh, as if he can’t quite believe his ears. Stede simply smiles softly at him; he’s overflowing with all the fondest, most romantic feelings that can possibly exist. A few long seconds later, “Let me get yours,” Ed says gruffly, setting the empty plastic container on the nearby dining table and picking up Stede’s. He opens it up, and Stede sighs happily. The boutonnière Ed picked out for him is so pretty. An ivory rose with a blush of pink at the center; a bit of delicate baby’s breath and some ivy.
“Oh, Ed,” he breathes. “It’s perfect.” Now it’s Ed’s turn to pin it on, which he does, frowning slightly, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrates. It’s so adorable that Stede’s hard-pressed not to grab him and kiss him right then and there.
But Ed’s mum is now back in the room, and they’re not exactly at the kissing stage (yet?), so Stede just smiles and smiles. “Let’s go downstairs,” she says, looking fondly at them both.
Ed slips on his black patent-leather dress shoes, grumbling under his breath a bit as he ties them. But he’s back to smiling again as he gestures for Stede to lead the way out.
They all go downstairs and outside, walking beyond the apartment complex toward a large, picturesque oak tree. This feels wholly different to Stede than just a short while ago at his house; he’s thrilled beyond measure to immortalize this moment with Ed. First they pose formally, side by side, with their hands on the smalls of each other’s backs. Then they take some more casual pictures: one with their arms around each other’s shoulders and grins on their faces; another where they strike James Bond poses until they can’t hold their pouty model expressions any longer and begin to crack up.
Once they’re done, Ed’s mum smiles at Ed, then straightens his lapels. “Mum,” he protests, much like Stede did a short while ago.
“Oh, hush.” She keeps adjusting until she’s satisfied. “I was so surprised when Ed told me he was going to prom,” she says to Stede. “I never thought he’d go to his own, let alone this year’s. And it’s so nice to see him wearing something other than grubby t-shirts.”
“I guess you never know,” Stede replies with a puckish grin, as Ed rolls his eyes and sighs about the two of them talking about him like he’s not there.
Fortunately—for Ed’s sake—the limo is now arriving at the apartment complex. “Oh, thank god,” Ed says, as the vehicle pulls in.
“Have a good time,” Ed’s mum says pleasantly, giving Ed a quick rub on the back. “Keep him out of trouble, please,” she adds to Stede.
“I will,” Stede replies, as Ed groans heavily. But any momentary annoyance on his part evaporates quickly as they walk over to their fancy ride. It’s time for their big night to begin.
When they get to the vehicle, the driver opens the door for them. “After you,” Stede says, with a grin and a courtly gesture. Ed gamely climbs inside, and Stede follows; Archie, Jim, Oluwande, and Zheng are all already there, gussied up in their formalwear, all looking incredible.
Olu is also wearing a white tux jacket; “Hell yeah! High five, brother!” Ed says, holding up his hand.
Oluwande grins and smacks it. “Looking sharp,” he says.
Jim’s in a sparkly black jumpsuit, every bead on it catching the light inside the limo; Archie’s wearing a tux jacket over a long black skirt. (Stede knows she wanted to wear trousers with the jacket, but her parents were too weird about it.) Zheng’s in a dark red spaghetti-strap gown; it’s eye-catching and extremely flattering. They all start chattering away, as Stede looks on proudly. Everyone is being so kind and welcoming to Ed; it’s working seamlessly.
Stede adores how willingly his crew is embracing Ed, and of course Ed is making a good impression, as Stede knew he would. When Ed leans back and settles in after all the getting-to-know-you banter, Stede goes for it: he reaches over and takes Ed’s hand. Ed turns his head swiftly to look at him; then he grins and squeezes it tight. At last they’re among friends. It’s safe. In this oasis on wheels, they don’t have to pretend.
A flash goes off; Zheng lowers her disposable camera and grins cheekily. “You two are too cute,” she says. “Let me take a posed one, too.” So Stede and Ed lean toward each other, pressing their shoulders together, and smile; she snaps another photo.
“You’re gonna get doubles, right?” Stede says. “I’ll need a copy of those.”
“If you’re good,” she responds, cheekily.
“What about me?” Ed asks, in a plaintive way.
Stede turns to him, positively glowing. “I’ll definitely make sure we order enough extra prints to go round.” As their gazes hold, the softness in Ed’s eyes makes Stede’s heart skip a beat.
Stede couldn’t possibly be happier than he is at this moment. What a wonderful night this is turning out to be.
Notes:
Isn’t mermaidinn’s art of sweet Ed just wonderful?? It captures this special moment so perfectly ❤️
I debated whether or not to go full “You wear fine things well” in this scene, but you know what? Just like his canon self, this Stede has lived his life through books up until now. So I think it tracks.
Commenters, you have my whole heart 🫶
Chapter Text
Now that he finally escaped his mum’s fussing, Ed’s having a good time. It’s like a trip to another world, wearing fancy clothes and riding in a limo, and Stede’s friends are fun and funny and as friendly as Stede promised. And holding Stede’s hand as they sit beside one another feels so, so good.
But once they get to the restaurant, the misgivings start trickling in. This place is fancy. Two chandeliers? That’s overkill. And he no longer has the comforting warmth of Stede’s hand in his as they’re shown to their seats.
And—fuckin’ hell. When they sit down at the white-tablecloth-covered table, and Ed sees the number of forks and spoons and whatever else, he starts thinking he’s made a huge mistake. And he hates that feeling. Hates that it makes him feel like what people think about him is right. That he shouldn’t have nice things. Doesn’t deserve them; isn’t meant for them.
“Hey,” Stede whispers. “You okay?” Everyone else is chattering and laughing, but Stede must’ve noticed how quiet he got.
“Yeah,” Ed says, trying not to let his anxiety show. “This is just…a lot of stuff, here.” He gestures at the cutlery in front of them.
“I know, right? But I’ve been here before, with my parents. You just go from the outside in, yeah? Do what I do.” Stede reaches over and pats Ed’s knee in a comforting way.
Before Stede can take his hand back, Ed puts his own over it. The great thing about the tablecloth is it provides some cover, and Ed needs this. Needs the connection and reassurance.
Stede looks over at him, and a flicker of understanding passes between them. He smiles encouragingly, squeezing Ed’s knee gently. We’re in this together, he seems to be saying. And Stede keeps his hand there until he needs it to pick up his silverware.
***
Stede’s glad when the meal is over, since Ed was so obviously uncomfortable throughout. Going to a snooty restaurant seemed like The Thing To Do, but in hindsight, Stede wonders if they should’ve skipped it. “Snails? Really?” Ed asked incredulously, when they first got their menus and Stede began walking him through the starters.
“The French love the snails,” Stede replied. “I used to, too, until I got old enough to think about what they were. You don’t have to order them.”
“Good.” Ed’s response was emphatic. And it didn’t seem to get better from there; Ed never stopped seeming ill at ease, his usual brashness muted in a way that hurt Stede’s heart.
To their credit, the restaurant was a fancy-enough place that the waitstaff was nothing but polite. Still, Stede’s as glad as Ed is when they pile back into the limo for their ride to the prom venue. As they scoot in close to one another, legs pressed together from hip to knee, he takes Ed’s hand and twines their fingers together, holding on tight. It’s a relief to feel Ed relaxing more and more beside him, the further they get from the restaurant.
“Ugh. You two are disgusting,” Archie says affectionately, after catching them turning to each other and smiling for the hundredth time. Stede’s loving every bit of this: not only is it a joy to be on this date with Ed, but it feels wonderful to be among friends whose teasing is strictly fond.
And it’s both exciting and a little heartbreaking, once they get to the prom venue. He and Ed let go of each other’s hands; this is “just close buds” time. Can’t attract unwanted attention. The prom theme is “Moonlight Serenade,” and there’s tinsel and balloons everywhere, everyone dressed to the nines; it’s festive, no doubt. The six of them take a group picture by the giant moon, clowning around together, but oh, how Stede wishes he and Ed could take a formal photo with just the two of them.
Dancing at least gives them something to do, and Stede’s tickled when “This Is How We Do It” comes on, and Ed mimics Montell Jordan’s gestures from the video they watched together:
You see the hood's been good to me
Ever since I was a lower case G
But now I'm a big G
The girls see I got the money
Hundred dollar bills, y'all
Stede loves the way Ed moves: the looseness in his hips, the comfort in his own skin, the way he feels and follows the beat so easily. Stede has a decent sense of rhythm, though he doesn’t know what to do with his hands half the time. But the way music seems to be a release for Ed is infectious, and Stede manages to stop thinking about it and just enjoy it.
But then…the slow songs. It…well…hurts, when they have to station themselves at the side of the room with their cups of non-alcoholic punch and watch the straight couples with their arms around each other, swaying along to Jon B.’s “Someone to Love.” He and Ed are leaning against the wall and toward each other as much as they dare, but that’s not enough. It’s not fair.
Ed seems to be thinking the same thing. Their eyes meet, and Ed smiles a rueful smile before he looks away.
No, Stede thinks. This can’t be all we get. What if it weren’t like that? And his brain starts clicking and clicking away.
He leans even closer to Ed. “I have an idea,” he says. “For after prom. So we can have our slow dance.”
“Really?” Ed says. He looks intrigued.
“Really. We can skip the afterparty, if you’re okay with that.”
“Sure,” Ed replies. “More interested in what you have in mind.”
So then it’s just a matter of getting through a few more slow songs and dancing to the fast ones; the official part of the dance ends with everyone throwing arms around each other’s shoulders and loudly singing along to “You’ve Got a Friend.” That’s some touching that’s socially acceptable, no matter who it is.
When you're down and troubled
And you need some lovin' care
And nothin', nothin' is goin' right
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest night
You just call out my name
And you know, wherever I am
I'll come runnin'
To see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I'll be there
You've got a friend
Stede’s experiencing such a profound sense of irony at this moment, being in a group of people belting out this song, promising to be there for each other, when only his closest handful of friends have done anything but ignore him at best or be cruel to him at worst. It’s a weird forced nostalgia at the end of this senior year that has usually been a social nightmare. For Stede, anyway.
But if there’s one skill he's honed, it’s focusing on the good and ignoring the bad. So Stede looks around at Oluwande and Jim and Archie and Zheng and, of course, darling Ed. They’re the ones who matter. The memory of them all together here is what Stede will carry with him, once he can finally leave this toxic place behind.
Notes:
I hated high school; why do you ask? 😂
One of my orchestra friends dancing to “This Is How We Do It” is my clearest memory from my own prom 3 decades ago, so of course it had to be adapted here! My prom date didn’t entirely want to be there with me, so it was certainly not memorable in that regard 😅
All my love and appreciation, beloved commenters ❤️❤️
Chapter Text
Once they troop back outside and find their limo waiting among all the others, Stede goes to the driver to ask him to take them back to Ed’s. “You’re not going to the afterparty?” Jim asks, surprised, once Stede shares that he and Ed aren’t going.
“Nah,” Stede says. “I think I’ve been around big groups of people enough for one night.” While true, that’s not really the reason; Stede wants to put his plan into motion as soon as humanly possible.
After Archie, Jim, Oluwande, and Zheng get dropped off at the afterparty they’re attending, it’s just the two of them on the way back to Ed’s house, hand in hand per uzh. “Sorry you’re missing the party on my account,” Ed says, apologetically.
Stede snorts and squeezes his hand. “I was never very good at those things. I hate parties. I would so much rather spend time with just you.” Ed smiles, looking down and then back again; he’s visibly touched by this.
And it’s time to let him in on his scheme. “Do you have a boombox?” Stede asks. “And a tape of something that would be good to slow dance to?”
Ed nods again, a slow smile dawning on his face. “Yeah, I do.”
“Then can you grab them and come back down? I thought we could go to that park near your house and have a moonlight serenade for real. It’s nighttime, so no one should be over there.”
Ed’s grinning now. “Should be able to make that happen.”
“Awesome,” Stede says, grinning back. “Will your mum be home?” he adds, suddenly wondering if that might be a wrench in their plans.
Ed nods. “Yeah, she should be. But it shouldn’t be a problem for me to stop in and go back out.”
And so, once the limo driver leaves them at Ed’s apartment complex, Ed goes into his building while Stede waits for him in The Revenge. It’s just a few minutes of Stede sitting there, jittery with excitement, before Ed returns with his supplies. “Did your mum see you?” he asks, as Ed gets into his car.
“Yeah, but I told her I was just grabbing a few things for the afterparty. Should be fine.” Ed buckles in, and Stede begins driving to the small park just a few minutes away.
Technically they’re not supposed to be there after dark, but there’s no gate, so Stede simply pulls in and parks in the small gravel lot. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get set up.”
They both get out of the car and walk a little way out toward the river. It’s a beautiful night, with the water gurgling nearby and the breeze ruffling the leaves around them and the moon and stars shining down on them; far more beautiful than a ballroom full of hormonal teenagers. Ed hits rewind on the cassingle in his boombox, just to make sure it’s at the beginning, then presses play.
When Stede hears what it is, he nearly dies: it’s All-4-One’s “I Can Love You Like That.” About as romantic a slow jam as you can get. His heart is absolutely melting that this is what Ed chose. “May I have this dance?” Stede says, in as courtly a manner as he can muster, holding out his hand.
Ed grins, his smile brilliant in the moonlight. He takes Stede’s hand; Stede pulls him closer. For a second he hesitates, not knowing what positioning to go for, but Ed lets go of his hand and rests his arms on Stede’s shoulders. Stede settles his hands around Ed’s waist.
They read you Cinderella, you hoped it would come true
That one day your Prince Charming would come rescue you
You like romantic movies, you will never forget
The way you felt when Romeo kissed Juliet
All this time that you've been waiting
You don't have to wait no more
I can love you like that
I would make you my world
It’s so true. It already feels like Ed’s claimed his rightful space at the center of Stede’s world. He pulls Ed just a bit closer as the next verse begins.
I never make a promise I don't intend to keep
So when I say forever, forever's what I mean
Well, I'm no Casanova, but I swear this much is true
I'll be holdin' nothing back when it comes to you
You dream of love that's everlasting
Well, baby open up your eyes
Stede pulls Ed in even closer as the chorus begins again, then more and more until their bodies are flush and their cheeks are pressed together. It’s heavenly. It’s everything—everything—Stede hadn’t even realized he wanted until that fateful day at Cedar Point.
He sings along with the bridge in Ed’s ear:
You want tenderness, I got tenderness
And I see through to the heart of you
If you want a man who understands
You don't have to look very far
A key change, and Stede’s heart soars with it.
I can love you like that
I would make you my world
This moment is perfect. Utterly perfect.
Too perfect to last. Suddenly, they see a bright flash of light and hear the telltale crunching of gravel: someone else is pulling into the parking lot. They drop each other immediately. Ed scrambles to stop the music and hop into Stede’s car; Stede turns the engine on and quickly reverses and pulls out of the lot. Neither has had time to buckle his seatbelt; they both do so as Stede pulls into the street.
“Well, that was unlucky,” Stede says, his heart in his throat. “What’s anyone else doing there at this hour?”
“Probably drinking,” Ed replies. “Or getting high.”
Now that they’re out of immediate peril and he has time to think, Stede sighs a sigh that’s so heavy it turns into a groan. He can’t believe his perfect plan got interrupted. The disappointment is unreal. It threatens to send him past the point of no return, where all he feels is bitter frustration closing in on him from all sides. He’s on the verge of getting totally lost in that dark morass of unhappiness, as if he’s never felt another emotion in his life and will never experience a different one again.
“Hey,” Ed says, very gently, reaching over and resting a hand on Stede’s knee. “Know our dance was short. But I loved it.”
And just like that, Ed stops Stede’s slide into oblivion. Stede was dangling off the cliff’s edge, but with his touch and his words, Ed threw him a lifeline.
Ed liked their dance. Stede glances over at him; the expression on his face is so sweet. That’s all that matters. Everything and everyone else doesn’t, at all. All of the affection and joy he’s been feeling over the course of the evening comes flooding back.
Stede exhales away the last of his frustration as he pulls back into Ed’s apartment complex and parks his car. All that’s left inside him is adoration and the magnetic pull he can’t help but feel whenever he’s with Ed. “I’ll walk you to your door,” he says, with a smile.
They stroll together toward Ed’s building, both staying quiet; Stede’s mind is full of that brief, blissful experience of holding Ed close. When they get to the front door, they both pause. This is a Moment; they both know it.
Stede’s been thinking about it, and thinking about it, and thinking about it, what he was going to do when this time came. His whole body and mind have been a stew of excitement and nerves all week. But now, on this beautiful night in May, in the glow of the moon and the streetlights, it feels so simple. So straightforward. He looks at Ed, at his lovely face, at all the warmth and…something else, in his eyes. Everything about Ed calls to him; makes him feel all kinds of feelings he’s never had before.
Stede’s gaze flicks back and forth between Ed’s eyes and mouth until they linger on his lips. Oh, he wants those lips against his, so desperately. And it’s easy to let himself drift forward on the current of that longing. Stede reaches for Ed and rests a hand against his shoulder blade; he tilts his head and leans in, slowly, giving Ed time to back away if he wants.
But Ed doesn’t back away. Just the opposite: he leans in too. A second or two of sharing breath, lips slightly parted, a whisper of space between them; then their lips connect, and oh. Stede can’t help making a soft sound of amazement and delight. “Magical” and “enchanting” don’t even cover it. His eyelids flutter closed; he can’t afford any distractions. He needs to feel this and remember this and let it sink into his heart to live there forever. The softness of Ed’s lips. The feeling of Ed kissing him back. The gentle pressure; the delicacy of this touch. Stede can sense how both of them are trying to get this just right. And it is. It is.
The sweetest treasure. Breathtakingly lovely.
Stede could stay this way for an eternity or two, but eventually, they separate, seeking each other’s eyes. Ed can’t possibly feel as intensely about this as Stede does, can he? But it seems as if he might. Ed’s eyes are dark pools of feeling; his expression is so open and impossibly tender. Stede never dreamed anyone could look at him that way. It’s a salve for a lonely, bruised place in his sensitive heart.
Some tendrils of hair have escaped from Ed’s half-ponytail; Stede tucks them behind Ed’s ear, very gently. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He has a quick moment of second-guessing his choice of adjective, but when Ed smiles a pleased smile at the compliment, it’s clear he doesn’t mind. And “beautiful” is the only word that comes anywhere close to describing him. “Handsome” or “good-looking,” while accurate, wouldn’t cut it. There’s a transcendent elegance to Ed’s face that those everyday words can’t capture. He looks as if he could’ve stepped right out of the art Stede’s seen at museums. Just that perfect; that aesthetically pleasing.
Stede trails his fingertips along Ed’s jaw, admiring him. Unlike a painting or a statue, Stede gets to touch him like this. Caress what should be caressed. What a privilege.
Stede leans in again, slides his hand to the nape of Ed’s neck under his hair, and presses one more soft kiss to his lips. It’s full of all the yearning he’s ever felt; all his devotion; his need for Ed to know how much he adores him. Let me show you how much I care about you. Can you feel it? Can you feel what I’m trying to tell you? This second kiss lasts for several blissful seconds, until Stede leans back. And then he knows he has to go. Before someone finds them and breaks the spell. Before he does something himself to spoil the moment. He needs to go home and write this down, no matter what the risks; try to capture every shimmering, evanescent feeling in words. This—everything he’s feeling right now—is poetry incarnate. It’s better than his wildest, most fantastical dreams.
One more long look into Ed’s eyes, then, “Night-night, Ed,” he whispers.
“Night-night,” Ed replies, looking a touch dazed. Love-drunk, Stede would think, if he had more confidence in himself.
Stede watches him go inside, then gets into his car and drives off toward his own house, his heart and mind a joyful symphony of celebration. Like he’s riding the waves in a sea of endorphins. No one else has had as magical a prom night as he has; he’s sure of it. Okay, sure, some of them are out there having sex, probably. Good for them. Even so: there’s no way any of them feel as good as he does. This was, without question, the best night of his life.
Notes:
So many thanks to mermaidinn for this sweet art of these precious boys! ❤️what a joy to finally share it with you!
Comments deeply appreciated, as always 🫶
Chapter Text
Ed’s relieved that his mum has gone to bed by the time he gets upstairs to the apartment; the idea of talking to another human being right now is a no-go.
He feels as shaky as jello after his night with Stede. He’s full of so much emotion, thinking of all the ways Stede showed his affection: looking after him at the restaurant; dancing in the moonlight and singing in his ear; kissing him with such tenderness. Ed’s kissed people before, sure, but it’s never felt like this. Never cracked him open so fully on the inside.
This is more than Ed’s ever let himself feel, about anyone or anything. Feeling has nearly always meant pain; he had to harden his heart or his father would break him. Had to tap into everything that was wild and rebellious and couldn’t be controlled or stamped out, even with force, to build enough of a shield to survive.
But the way Stede looks at him. The way Stede touches him. As if he’s delicate and precious and ought to be treated with care. Stede’s like the romantic hero in a book, sweeping Ed off his feet, and Ed can tell he doesn’t have the least idea that he is. Which makes him even harder to resist.
Ed can’t help it. It feels risky as fuck, leaning into it. But it feels wonderful. Like it proves that he—Ed—is special, and has value. Like he can be loved.
Ed un-pins his boutonnière from Stede; he holds it up to his nose and sniffs the star-shaped flowers around the richly colored orchid in the center. They smell as sweet as Stede is. Like all the things he’s always wanted but could never have.
When he thinks about it, he can still feel Stede’s lips on his lips, his fingertips caressing his face. The disarming gentleness. It feels like hope; like possibility.
Every wall Ed tries to put up, Stede knows how to make it vanish, as if it was never there. As if the whole world is just the two of them, and Stede is extending his hand, and all Ed has to do is take it. Just that effortless and simple.
***
Stede sleeps in late the next morning. He was up until the wee hours, scribbling and scribbling in his journal, trying to write down every thought and feeling and sensation so he doesn’t forget a single detail. It’s almost noon when he wakes up; he was sleeping so deeply that it takes him a minute to figure out where he is and what is happening. Then he remembers. For a second, he had a panicky rush of fear that last night never happened; but then he calms himself: it did happen. He danced with Ed, and he kissed him, and it was truly the best night he’s ever had. He wriggles happily, just thinking about it. Is this love? Is this what love feels like? It sure seems like it to Stede.
That joy doesn’t make him not groggy, however, as he stumbles downstairs to pour himself a belated bowl of cereal. His mum is there in the kitchen, radiating disapproval. I’m sure she’s mad I slept in, he thinks. “Morning, Mum,” he says.
She doesn’t return his greeting. “As soon as you’re done eating, Stede, your father needs to talk to you in his office.”
“Uh, okay?” What is it now? Stede wonders. What could he possibly have done or left undone that would get him in trouble? He forces himself to eat quickly, which, while annoying, isn’t that big an issue; he hates the texture of soggy cereal more than most things in life. So he crams down his Frosted Flakes and gets up, knowing that keeping his father waiting would make things worse instead of better.
When Stede gets to the study, his dad is sitting behind his desk, looking severe. Stede feels like he’s been called to the principal’s office. “You wanted to talk to me?” he asks, warily.
Stede’s father nods once, grimly, a crease between his brows. “I’ve been given some important information about your activities last night.”
“My activities?” Stede asks, puzzled. “I went to prom with my friends. You knew that.”
“I knew you were going to the dance, yes. I did not know you were going to be seen at the park with your arms around that boy.”
Shit. Shit shit shit. Whoever startled them there must have ratted them out. He thought they’d packed up in time, but the Revenge is too recognizable, and apparently he and Ed are too. Was it Jack? He knows Jack’s parents are friends with his, and he’s enjoyed tormenting Stede all year, for some unknown reason. Stede’s certainly never done anything to him. What could he do? Jack’s a jock and Stede’s an orchestra nerd; he’s way above Stede in the social hierarchy. If it was Jack, he sure as hell is punching down.
Stede tries to play it off, speaking nonchalantly: “What if I did?”
His father glares at him. “If you did something of that nature, it would be scandalous. You knew that very well. I ought to have known we should never have let someone like that boy into our home. Of course he would lead you astray.”
No. Stede is not having this. How dare this awful man speak about Ed and their beautiful prom night this way, with his snobbery and his bigotry and his cruel insinuations? Stede stands up straight, with as much dignity as a person still in his pajamas can have. He looks his father directly in his cold, hard eyes. “It was my idea,” he says, keeping his voice firm and serious, though every breath is tight and painful to draw. “I suggested we go to the park. I asked him to dance with me. He shouldn’t get any blame for it. Not one bit.”
His father looks enraged, now, a vein in his forehead throbbing, jaw clenched. But unluckily for Stede, Edward Bonnet’s rages are cold ones. Stede wishes his dad would just bite his head off and be done with it; the simmering tension and deliberate, exacting cruelty are far worse. When he speaks again, it’s with absolute certainty and finality: “You need to break things off with that boy immediately.”
But what he doesn’t expect is for Stede to fight back. “No,” Stede replies, with just as much finality. “I won’t. I’m eighteen. I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t control me.”
He expects his father to argue this point, to say Stede lives under his roof, that he’s reliant on them to pay for his college tuition next year, but he doesn’t. A cunning look comes over his face instead. “Son. I’m not sure who you take me for. But I’m not to be trifled with.”
“Take away anything you want,” Stede says stoutly. “My car, whatever. I’m not breaking up with him.”
His father grimaces at this; Stede talking about it as if it’s a real relationship isn’t sitting well with him at all. His expression hardens even further. “You assume I don’t know anything about the people you associate with, Stede. But I do. The boy and his mother’s situation is somewhat precarious, isn’t it? I imagine her employers wouldn’t look kindly on her son being a deviant.”
“Don’t call him that!” Stede hisses, in a frenzy. “Don’t you dare do anything to hurt either of them!”
The elder Bonnet now looks rather amused. Well he knows he has Stede exactly where he wants him; he’s found the one chink in Stede’s armor. “Their fate is in your hands, son.”
Stede clenches his fists, determined not to go off into anything that might be dismissed as a childish rage. “How dare you.” Stede can match him, cold fury for cold fury, if that’s what his father wants. He’s learned some lessons well. “Blackmailing your kid? Who does that?”
“Let’s call it…providing incentives for more appropriate behavior on your part.” God, fuck him. Stede could cheerfully commit patricide at this moment. It’s sorely tempting to just go ahead and brain him with the brass paperweight on his desk (though spending the rest of his life in jail seems like a less-than-optimal outcome. That’s the only thing holding him back). “You are not to have anything to do with that boy from here on out,” his father continues. “Oh—and don’t even think about trying to get around this prohibition or telling him about our conversation. If I find out that you shared the terms of our agreement, the outcome will be the same as if you never agreed at all.”
Fuck. Ed not even knowing why all of this is happening? Having to break his heart with no explanation? Stede feels genuine panic beginning to rise. “Dad—please—you can’t—”
“Oh, I can.” His dad looks smug and cunning beyond belief. “I will do what is necessary to protect the best interests of this family.”
But there’s no way Stede will let that go unchallenged: “In your best interests, you mean,” he spits. Stede stares into his stony eyes again. He may have no choice but to enter into this horrific agreement, but he won’t give his father the satisfaction of believing he’s broken his spirit.
His father’s tone as he responds is entirely condescending. “When you are less immature, Stede, you’ll see the wisdom in my course of action.” He picks up the handset of the cordless phone on his desk. “We’re going to take care of this immediately. Call him now and break it off. Tell him not to contact you ever again.”
Stede’s brain is going a mile a minute, trying to figure out a plan, a loophole, a bargaining chip, anything. But he’s been outmaneuvered. His father holds all the cards. He has nothing.
All he knows is that nothing bad must happen to Ed and his mother. Not if he can prevent it. Not if sacrificing the first and only true bit of happiness in his life can protect them.
A yawning pit of misery is opening in his gut, and the reality hasn’t even fully sunk in yet. Stede takes the handset and presses the numbers, feeling like he’s walking to the gallows.
“Not a word of explanation, remember,” his father says, in a harsh whisper, as the phone rings. Stede waves him off angrily; he’s doing what he’s being asked. His father doesn’t need to continue beating a dead horse.
Ed’s mother answers: “Hello?”
“Hi, Mrs. Teach. It’s Stede. Is Ed there?”
“Yes, he is. Just a minute.”
Some rustling—she must be covering the handset with her hand—and a few seconds later, Ed’s holding the phone. “Hey, Stede.” Oh, no. Ed sounds so happy to hear from him.
“Ed,” Stede says, then stops. How can he possibly say these words? How can he cut out his own beating heart? Even worse: how can he inflict pain on the person he cares about most in this world? “Torture” feels like too mild a word for it. “We…I can’t see you anymore.” His voice cracks. He stares at the floor. That expensive but ugly rug with its dull, lifeless stripes imprints itself indelibly in his brain. The thing he was looking at when he did the hardest and worst and cruelest thing he’s ever done in his life.
“Stede.” The disbelief in Ed’s voice is plain as day. “You kidding me? What’s going on?”
“I’m not joking.” Stede can feel his father’s eyes boring into him; he doesn’t need another reminder that he’s not allowed to give an explanation.
“Are your parents making you do this?” Dammit, Ed’s too smart. “Fuck. If they are, you probably can’t say,” he surmises, quite correctly.
“Mmhmm.” It’s both good and bad that Ed’s onto this bit of blackmail. Maybe Ed’s clever enough to find a way out of this. But Stede also doesn’t want this to blow up in their faces.
Ed’s voice is urgent as he replies: “Stede, we’ll figure this out. Okay? We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”
“Mmm,” Stede says noncommittally, trying to give nothing away about the conversation. If they can just make it to Monday, his father can’t control what they discuss in school, as long as they cover their tracks super carefully. “You can’t call me. I can’t call you. Okay?”
“Tell him it’s over,” his dad prompts, in a stage whisper.
You have to. You have to do this to protect them. “It’s over, Ed,” he says, in a dull monotone.
“I don’t believe it,” Ed responds, passionately. “I don’t. You wouldn’t choose this. We’ll—”
But Stede’s father takes the handset from his hand and presses the button to hang up. “I’m blocking this number,” he says coolly, tapping away. “And if I catch you trying to call him, remember: there will be consequences. For them and for you.”
Stede doesn’t care at all about himself. Any consequences his father wants to dish out, he can take them. But no matter what, he’ll protect Ed and his mum. No harm will come to them on his watch. “You are evil,” he hurls at his dad. It’s all he can do. His hands are clenched again into the tightest of fists at his sides.
“I care about our family,” his father replies, in a haughty manner, as if he’s the long-suffering martyr in this situation. “In fact, I’ve already taken other steps to rectify this…situation. We’ve arranged for you to have dinner with a more…suitable companion, tonight. Her name is Mary.”
“Dad!” Stede bursts out. He didn’t think things could get worse, but somehow, they have. His pulse is pounding in his ears. Every single thing about this is an utter outrage. “You can’t just…fix me by setting me up with a girl!” I’m. Not. Broken, he thinks, though he doesn’t say the words. Not because he’s afraid to, but because he knows how useless it would be.
He knows his parents think he’s broken. But, for the first time in all his eighteen years, he knows deep in his gut that he isn’t. The way he feels about Ed is so beautiful—so logical, even—that it can’t be wrong, even if they think so. Even if everyone around him thinks so.
I’ve never felt less broken, he thinks. I’ve never made sense before. And now I do. But this man in front of him, this poor excuse for a father, isn’t worth his energy. He doesn’t deserve to hear those words.
And–-even though he’s being manipulated and controlled right now, Stede feels, for the first time, like an adult and not a child. The love within him, the sacrifices he’s willing to make: those matter, and they are shaping him. His father holds every advantage—he has all the power—but not over Stede’s heart or his moral compass. Not over the man he is now or will become. Which is fifty times the man his father could ever be.
Stede tries to memorize this feeling, too. He knows he’s going to need it.
“You’re going on this date, Stede,” his father is saying. Stede blinks; he’s been so lost in thought he momentarily forgot what was happening. “It would be unkind to Mary to back out now.”
“‘Back out,’” Stede repeats sarcastically, making air quotes. “From something I never agreed to in the first place.”
“Be that as it may. You’re going.”
“Oh, I’ll go. But for her sake, not yours.” And fuck you, Stede thinks, though he keeps that inside. He stomps out of the room; he can’t stand being there a single second longer. Who knew it was possible to plummet from cloud nine to a living nightmare this quickly. It’s a billion times worse than the Demon Drop.
At least Ed is too smart to believe Stede was responsible for this. That’s the desperate hope Stede is clinging to; the only thing helping him keep his sanity anywhere close to intact. But it figures, doesn’t it, that he doesn’t get to have anything good? Life is knocking him down and kicking him in the head yet again, as it always does. What else did he expect?
Notes:
I know 🥺 I don’t know if this makes it any better, but: at first I was going to give Stede a bit of a gay panic, but I decided that I really didn’t want to undercut any of what happened before. The conflict needed to come strictly from outside. What Stede has with Ed is special and beautiful, and he knows it ❤️
Chapter Text
Stede passes the afternoon in a stupor, trying to think of ways he and Ed might get around this awful prohibition from his family, but he’s not clever enough. He does his homework, which takes twice as long as usual, given how much trouble he has focusing; he practices the violin, which does give him a place to express some of his stifled feelings. But mostly, he sits and stares off into the middle distance, counting down the hours until he can see Ed again and start figuring out what to do.
“Are you ready?” his mum calls up the stairs; he’s back in his room, sitting listlessly on the bed, not getting changed.
Stede “No,” he says.
“Well, get ready. You need to leave in five minutes.”
Stede exhales the heaviest of sighs. He tosses on a polo shirt and pulls on his khakis, looking like the proper little rich boy his parents want him to be. He doesn’t even look in the mirror before going downstairs; he doesn’t care at all what his hair is doing.
His mum tells him what restaurant it is and hands him some cash. “Fine,” he grits out, getting into The Revenge and driving over. What if he drove to Ed’s house right now? But Ed’s probably at Wendy’s, anyway. And as much as he wants to find Ed and start driving and driving to escape their current lives, that’s not a real option. They have to finish school; they have to plot a reasonable course to a less oppressive future. Stede’s not ready to take off without a solid plan.
When he gets to the restaurant, Mary’s already seated. She’s wearing a dark dress with a light-colored floral print; it has a neckline that’s somewhere between a scoop neck and a deep V. As Stede approaches the table, she gives him a kind smile that only makes him feel worse. She didn’t ask to get caught up in this whole mess.
“Hey,” he says shortly, as he sits down. “I’m Stede.”
“Yes, I know,” she says. “I’m Mary.”
“Yeah, I know.” He picks up the menu and starts looking through it without making small talk. He knows he’s being rude right now, but there’s nothing in him that wants to put any effort into this charade.
Mary does her best to make conversation, asking him about school and music and hobbies, but he gives one- or two-word answers to her questions. He’s not at all mentally present. All he can do is think about how wrong this feels: not only because it’s not Ed beside him, but because this shouldn’t be happening at all, to him or to Mary. It’s none of their parents’ business whom they date.
By the time their salad plates have been taken away, he realizes Mary is genuinely trying to get his attention. “Stede. Stede.” He looks up. Poor Mary; she’s really making an effort. “I know neither of us chose to be here, but we have to try, don’t we?” Her voice is so hopeful. Stede can’t hate her, and he wouldn’t want to, anyway. This isn’t her fault; it’s not his, either. “We only have this one life,” she adds.
We only have this one life. Now that Stede is finally listening, her words bounce around his skull like a ping-pong ball. She’s right, isn’t she? She’s so right about that.
“Mary,” he bursts out desperately. “You’re very pretty, and you’re really nice. This isn’t about you.” He hesitates for a split second, then forges ahead: “I’m in love with someone else, all right? Someone my parents think I shouldn’t be with.”
“Oh!” Mary looks away, mortified, a blush blooming on her cheeks. “God, this is so embarrassing!”
“No, no, it isn’t your fault,” Stede says, trying to reassure her. “It isn’t either of our faults. We didn’t choose this.”
Mary blushes a little more deeply. “No, we didn’t.” She pauses to sigh and settle herself, then looks back at Stede. “What’s her name?” she asks, gently.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Does Stede’s entire life have to be made up of turning points and big decisions right now? Now he has to make another choice. Can he trust Mary? He’s only just met her. Will telling the truth make things better or worse? It could make things so much worse. But his life has already devolved into such painful chaos.
You know what? Screw it. After the day he’s had, he might as well go ahead and live as authentically as he can. “Ed,” he replies, looking down. But then he meets Mary’s eyes and holds her gaze. “His name is Ed.”
Mary’s eyes grow very wide, and she gasps. “Ohh,” she exhales. Stede fiddles with his cutlery, waiting to see what else she’s going to say. Whether or not she’s going to think he’s disgusting and a freak. After a few seconds, she smiles a sympathetic smile, and her eyes are so kind. She reaches over and squeezes his hand. “I’m so glad you trusted me enough to tell me, Stede. I’m happy for you.”
Stede huffs a wry laugh. “I’m not sure you should be. My parents blackmailed me into breaking things off. And apparently they’re trying to turn me straight. Or make me pretend I am, at least. Hence this date they made us go on.”
“I’m just glad there’s nothing wrong with me,” Mary says, with a giggle. She does look relieved.
“Why are you here?” Stede asks, curiously. “I know why I am. But why are you?”
It’s a pretty blunt question, but Mary doesn’t take it amiss. “Ugh, Stede.” She groans and slumps in her chair. Now that neither of them are pretending any longer, her manner has become much more casual. “My parents think they’re being nice. I’m about to graduate too, and I’ve…never been on a date.”
“Really?” Stede’s genuinely surprised.
“Yeah, really. It’s not like people are beating down the door to date someone who wins trophies at Science Olympiad.”
“Ooh!” Stede says. “You did Science Olympiad?”
“Yeah,” Mary laughs. “All four years.”
“Oh my god!” Stede exclaims. “Me too! And it was so wild.” He leans in conspiratorially. “Last year, one of the parents cheated at Picture This! They listened in when another school was competing, and told us what the words were! So I drew, like, two lines, and my teammate was all, ‘ribonucleic acid!’” Stede chortles at the memory. “We’re so lucky we didn’t get busted.”
Mary chuckles with him. “That is wild,” she says, eyes twinkling.
Everything is so much easier, now that neither of them has to pretend. They can just let their nerd flags fly and bond over what they have in common, chatting easily over dinner and dessert. For Stede, the rest of the meal serves as a surprisingly pleasant break from the current shambles of his life, if only a temporary one.
When it’s time to leave, “Hey,” Mary says. “If I can help you, just let me know, okay? I can pretend we’re on a date to give you cover, so you can still see Ed.”
“Oh, Mary. That’s really nice of you.” Stede’s heart is swelling with hope for the first time in hours. “Thank you.” Then he pauses. “Wait. Hang on. You probably didn’t ask your parents to set you up, right? Is there anybody you want to go out with?”
Mary’s cheeks go a bit pink again. “Well…yeah. There’s this guy, Doug, in my art class. But I don’t think he’s ever noticed me.”
“You should ask him out before school’s done,” Stede declares. “What do you have to lose? You’re going to college next year, aren’t you? So you never have to see him again if he says no.”
Mary looks surprised at first, then seems to realize Stede may have a point. “I’ll think about it.” She smiles. “In the meantime, go and get your man.”
Stede grins. “Believe me, I’ll try.”
When Stede arrives back at his house, his mum is sitting in the living room, waiting. “Well?” she asks.
“I think we hit it off,” Stede says, quite casually. “I have a feeling we’re going to see each other again.”
Stede’s mum nods crisply, a look of self-satisfaction on her face. “Good.”
Oh, you don’t know the half of it, lady, Stede thinks. And it’s none of your business.
Notes:
Of course that’s a true story about Science Olympiad 😅
Lots of love to readers and extra to commenters 🫶🫶🫶
Chapter Text
Before school on Monday, Stede tosses and turns all night. First he’s unable to fall asleep; once he finally does, he’s beset by nightmares where he’s chasing and chasing after something and never reaching it. He’s foggy and out of it when he wakes for school, but it’s an enormous relief when he realizes he can finally see Ed and talk to him today. He knows he still has to be careful—it’s his mission in life to protect Ed however he can—but not speaking with him over the weekend beyond the one forced, paternally scripted conversation was torture.
He throws down his breakfast, gathers his things, and drives quickly to school; once there, he hustles into the building as fast as he can so he can wait by Ed’s locker. Which he does, heart pounding, shifting his weight from foot to foot with impatience.
Ed doesn’t appear.
Maybe he’s running late, Stede thinks. At least I’ll see him during third period. That’s when English is; he just has to survive until then.
It’s lucky it’s the end of the year, since Stede is entirely unable to pay attention in first and second periods. He rushes to English class after that, arriving breathlessly, determined to squeeze in a couple of minutes with Ed before class if he can.
Ed isn’t there.
The time ticks by. Stede keeps looking at the clock; is Ed missing school today? Is he running late?
Just before the bell rings, Ed arrives.
Stede’s first reaction is immense relief. Thank god.
His second reaction? Holy shit. What happened?
Ed’s dressed in black from head to toe. His hair is down, half covering his face; Stede’s never seen him wearing it like that. He’s wearing a spiky black wristband and scuffed black boots, even though it’s almost summer. Everything about his look says Don’t fuck with me.
He sits down at his desk without so much as a glance at Stede.
Stede’s deeply taken aback. Of course, he was forced to break up with Ed. But Ed could tell something was up. That was how they left things, wasn’t it? Ed sensed he wasn’t doing it by choice.
In hindsight, it must have been wishful thinking. But Stede truly didn’t expect this.
He sits in misery, again not hearing a word of what the teacher is saying, watching the minute hand of the clock slowly tick forward. He jumps out of his seat as soon as class is over, but Ed’s like a black cat, slipping out the door quick as a flash.
But Stede is determined. He huffs and puffs and manages to catch Ed a few doors down. “Ed,” he says, urgently. “Can I—”
That’s as far as he gets before Ed whips around. Stede’s never seen anything as tragic as Ed’s big brown eyes. They have deep violet circles underneath them, and his gaze is like steel; the polar opposite of the softness and warmth Stede saw the last time he looked into them. “Fuck you,” Ed hisses. “How dare you try to talk to me.”
Stede’s completely bewildered by this abrupt and catastrophic shift. “But…Ed…I thought you…if I could just—”
But Ed isn’t having it. “No,” he interrupts again. This time his voice is as freezingly calm as the look in his eyes. “I was such an idiot to trust you. Don’t ever speak to me again, Stede. Not a single word.”
All the pieces of Stede’s fractured heart he was holding together with the hope that somehow, some way, they’d figure this out, now fall apart irrevocably. He stands, open-mouthed, as Ed walks away. Once Ed is out of sight, he slides to the floor, unseeing, unable to register anyone else in the hallway, let alone care what they think.
It’s over. It’s really over. I want to die. These are the only words Stede can assemble in his brain. All that exists inside him is a vast, dark emptiness. Just nothingness, filling up every corner of his soul. If a tall figure walks by and gives a snort of smug satisfaction, he doesn’t even notice.
From another world entirely, Stede hears a voice. “Stede? Are you all right?” It’s Oluwande. “Don’t you have orchestra now?”
Stede blinks, registers Olu’s face above him, the concern written all over it. “Yeah. Guess I do.” He lets Olu help him up; goes through the rest of his day by rote. The terrible waking nightmare that it is.
He supposes he has to keep living. Why, he can’t say. Nothing has ever seemed as pointless as his continued existence. All that stretches out before him is a yawning emptiness. How does anyone survive such a thing? He has absolutely no idea how he’s supposed to endure it. The thought is almost more than he can bear.
***
Two days earlier
They were so caught up in planning for prom on Friday that Ed never told Stede he got a job offer at a nice restaurant. Just as a busser and runner, whatever’s needed, but still. It’s a big step up from Wendy’s; a chance, maybe, to rise through the ranks. Then on prom night itself, work is the last thing he’s thinking about; he’s fully focused on Stede, on living in the moment, getting all the enjoyment he can out of the experience.
Ed was supposed to start his new job on Tuesday, but he gets a call late Sunday morning, saying they’re short-handed, and can he start that evening? That’s a no-brainer; of course he will. Something good happening to him at last.
But then Stede’s breakup phone call comes. Ed’s confident it’s all Stede’s parents’ doing; there’s nothing about Stede’s voice that sounds right. He has to be speaking someone else’s words. There’s no way, after their magical night, that Stede would turn around and dump him the very next day.
Or so Ed believes. He clocks in for his shift at the restaurant, gets some quick-and-dirty training, and is asked to bus some tables. He’s excited; this is the first step in proving himself, and he’s determined to do a good job. But as soon as he goes out onto the floor, he’s blindsided by the shock of his life: there, plain as day, is Stede. He’s not only dining at this restaurant, but he’s sitting there, chatting and laughing, on what is obviously a date. With a girl. A girl. Stede made Ed believe he truly cared about him, and then he turns around and does this?
Ed was just a whim. A plaything. A diversion. It’s all so obvious now; Ed should have clocked it. Stede’s going to leave, go to uni, marry some girl, have kids, and live his normal perfect fucking life as if Ed never existed.
He feels like he’s gonna explode. He can’t be in that space one more second. “I quit,” he says to the back-of-house manager, who simply stares at him, open-mouthed. Ed stalks out the door and starts walking. He walks and walks and walks; he doesn’t know when or how he’ll make it home, and he doesn’t care. He knows he’s fucked up his own future by abandoning his job on the first day, but he can’t possibly care about that. His rage and pain are endless.
Everything Ed has ever believed about humanity, about himself, has been confirmed. He hates Stede; he hates everyone. He hates himself most of all. For caring, for hoping, for being thick as pig shit when the truth has always been right in front of him.
He’s not lovable. No one will ever love him; not in the way he wants to be loved.
Apparently he should’ve listened to his mum. She’s always tried to get him to moderate his expectations. To understand that, more likely than not, things won’t work out. That people like them have to strive and struggle and probably still not manage to do any more than survive.
Anything beyond what he has is a luxury; expecting anything but the bare minimum is foolishness. Imagining he could have what he wants? A satisfying life, full of ease and comfort and connection and understanding?
Never again. Never again will he be soft and let himself believe.
***
At first, Stede feels almost nothing. Just a total absence of every kind of feeling, both good and bad. He sleepwalks through school and homework and everything else; he couldn’t have told you what he’s been doing, he’s running so thoroughly on auto-pilot.
Then memory after memory of the brief time when he and Ed were happy together starts trickling back, and each is a gut-stab; each a red-hot poker to the chest. Every single touch comes back to him. Every gentle look in Ed’s eyes. The heaven of kissing him. Every time they laughed and joked together. The comfort he felt with Ed that he’s never felt with another human being on the planet.
Oh, the wild, stormy grief, then, for what he’s lost. It threatens to tear Stede apart. The pain is immeasurable.
***
It doesn’t help that they’re analyzing some of Shakespeare’s sonnets in English class: so many are about romance gone awry. When they get to Sonnet 139 and the teacher asks for a volunteer to read it aloud, Ed raises his hand instantly. “Go ahead,” she says, nodding in his direction. And although Ed doesn’t look at him even once as he reads, it couldn’t be more obvious to Stede that Ed’s reading it at him:
O, call not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue;
Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Tell me thou lov’st elsewhere; but in my sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside;
What need’st thou wound with cunning when thy might
Is more than my o’erpressed defense can bide?
Let me excuse thee: ah, my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been mine enemies;
And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries—
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain.
Stede shivers. Though Ed’s voice is calm on the surface, Stede can hear the passion and pain in it. No, no, no, he wants to jump up and say. I’m nothing like the Dark Lady! My heart belongs to you and only you.
“Thank you, Ed,” the teacher says. “Now can anyone sum up what this sonnet is about, before we start digging into some lines?” Ed’s hand shoots up again, before anyone else’s can. “Yes, Ed?” she says, patiently.
“The speaker is talking to someone who cheated on him and hurt him,” he says, his voice eerily intense. “A lot.”
“Yes. That’s correct. Now if we consider how the word ‘looks’ gets used in the poem…” but Stede is no longer listening. He’s utterly lost in how much he wants to throw himself at Ed’s feet and sob out how he never wanted to hurt Ed, how he should never have listened to his parents, how he’d give anything for Ed to take him back. But all he can do is shrink further and further into himself, brokenhearted that he’s hurt Ed this badly, unable to think of any way to fix it when Ed won’t even talk to him.
That powerlessness nags at him for the rest of class and the school day; all afternoon and evening; as he brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed; as he lies awake, staring at the ceiling, nowhere close to being able to sleep.
But hours later, as he goes over everything in his mind for the umpteenth time, he realizes: again and again, he’s let life merely happen to him. Throwing its punches, while all he does is either absorb the blow or attempt to dodge. But what if he doesn’t? What if he does something of his own volition? What if he takes action, even if it fails?
So he gets out his favorite pen and some teddy bear stationery (it’s all he can find without tearing his room apart too noisily at this hour), and he spends the rest of that night writing letter after letter to Ed: Dear Ed, every minute we spend apart feels like an eternity…I know we’re not through…I thought you knew that breaking up was never my choice. Believe me, you have my whole heart. My whole soul…I would do anything for you, Ed. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you…line after line, pouring all of his pent-up emotion into his sentences, trying to corral the enormity of his feelings into words that might help Ed understand a fraction of what he feels. That might have an infinitesimal shot at convincing Ed to give him another chance.
The next day, he slides the notes through the vent in Ed’s locker. Will he read them? Probably not. But at least he tried. At least he did something. He has no idea why Ed would be so convinced he no longer cares. Because he does care, so much, and his longing for Ed—for Ed to understand that he never wanted to hurt him, at the very least—is consuming every moment of Stede’s existence.
Notes:
Er. Yes, I made it worse 🫣 but how could I have teen Ed and not get him into full emo/goth mode?? I was so thrilled when mermaidinn was on board with illustrating baby Kraken Ed! Although these two are so heartbreakingly precious that I suspect you all will be even more mad at me 😅
I have been so excited and nervous for today! Insert Stede saying “I deserve that”.jpg 🫣
Chapter 9
Notes:
Content warnings:
Car accident
Head injury, but it’s the David Jenkins school of medical accuracy, with no permanent damage
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A few days later, Stede’s brief flicker of hope has waned to almost nothing. As he feared, Ed has either not read the notes, or he’s not convinced by them: he’s continuing to avoid Stede at school, not sparing a single glance or word that might give Stede an ounce of encouragement.
So all Stede can do is continue to drift through life, jotting another note whenever he thinks of a different way to tell Ed how much he adores him, employing every distraction he can to pass the time.
He’s listlessly attempting to watch tv one evening, trying not to think about the afternoon he spent with Ed beside him on that sofa, when the doorbell rings. He climbs the stairs and goes to answer it; at least that gives him something to do.
He’s startled to find Ed’s mum on his doorstep. “Mrs. Teach?” he says, surprised.
“Stede.” Her voice is trembling. “I’m so sorry to drop in on your family like this, but I tried to call on the phone, and the call wouldn’t go through.”
Stede knows why, of course; if she’s been calling from home, his dad blocked the number. “It’s no problem,” he assures her. “What’s going on?”
“Ed was in a car accident.” She’s clutching her hands together to try to stop them from shaking; they still are. “Someone else was driving. He’s unconscious, and he’s not waking up. But they told me he kept repeating your name before he passed out. And the doctors think he may still hear what’s going on around him. So I thought you might want to come and see him.”
Ed’s hurt…Ed’s hurt, and he’s not waking up…oh god oh god oh my fucking god how is this happening? “Yes,” Stede replies, as calmly as he can, so he doesn’t add to Ed’s mum’s distress. “Of course I want to see him. What hospital is he at?”
“Sparrow.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you there.” Stede’s mum has walked into the room, curious about why they’re receiving a visitor so late. “I’ll be back, Mum,” Stede tosses over his shoulder, as he grabs the keys to his car.
“Where are you going?” She’s more confused than anything.
“To the hospital. To see my friend. I’ll be back sometime.”
“Sometime? But—” It’s too late; Stede has walked out the door and is striding over to The Revenge. He’s got a job to do, now. He won’t let himself imagine the worst. There’s no way he’ll be able to keep it together if he does.
***
After Stede parks his car in the hospital garage, he finds Ed’s mum inside the sliding doors of the entrance; they register him as a visitor, explaining why he’s there after visiting hours, and she begins showing Stede to Ed’s room.
“He’s not intubated,” she says as they walk, her voice quavery. “But he has a severe enough concussion that he’s still out.” She can’t keep a choked sob from escaping; Stede rubs her back to try and comfort her.
“How did it happen?” he asks. “Is the driver hurt, too?”
“Banged up, but conscious.” She presses the button to call the elevator. “I guess the story he gave is that his Birkenstock got stuck on the accelerator, and he swerved and hit a tree. But between you and me, I’m positive drugs or alcohol were involved.” The elevator dings, and the doors open; they get in to ride up to Ed’s floor. “I was so happy you two were spending time together,” she continues, wistfully. “A lot of his other friends have been…not good influences.”
Stede feels a sharp stab of guilt. “Just so you know,” he says. “I never wanted to stop being his friend.”
“I’m glad.” Once the elevator doors open back up, Ed’s mum steps out and leads the way down the hall. “And I’m not blaming you,” she adds. “I feel responsible. I know I haven’t been able to give him the attention he needs.”
“Hmm.” Stede considers as they walk. “I have a feeling Ed wouldn’t want either of us to think we can control what he does.”
“You do know him, don’t you?” She looks at him sideways, wry amusement on her face. Stede nods, returning a faint smile; it’s the best he can do. They both fall silent.
Stede keeps himself together pretty well, as they travel the hallways with their harsh fluorescent lights and staff in scrubs and beeps and noises everywhere.
But his calm begins to falter when they arrive at Ed’s room. “Here we are,” Ed’s mum says, gesturing for him to go ahead of her.
Stede takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he’s about to see; he opens the door and goes inside. And there Ed is, bandaged and still, wearing a hospital gown, attached to all sorts of machines. Breathing slowly; looking frail and wan. Stede’s heart can barely take it: it’s utterly devastating, seeing Ed this way.
A few seconds later, Stede glances over to the small table beside the bed. At first he’s not sure what he’s looking at; then he realizes it’s a chain with a bit of dried blood on it, and—his own class ring. Stede assumed Ed stopped wearing it, but either he never did, or he put it back on before whatever recklessness he was planning for this evening.
Something inside Stede shatters.
It’s as if the floor gives way beneath him, and he’s in free fall again. Plummeting into a bottomless pit of regret and sadness and self-recrimination. He’ll disappear into it, completely.
“You can talk to him,” Ed’s mum reminds him, in a low voice, bringing him back to the present. “The doctors said he might be able to hear things, even though he’s not responsive.”
Stede looks at her and nods, blinking fast. There’s a small stool by Ed’s beside; he sits down on it, rolls close, reaches over the bedrails and gently takes Ed’s hand. All he ever wanted was to hold that hand, but not like this. Not like this.
“Oh, Ed,” he says, his voice cracking. He has so many tears, but for Ed’s mum’s sake, he won’t let them out. “You nut. Why’d you have to go and take all these risks?” He rubs his thumb gently over Ed’s knuckles. What can he even say? Are these the last words Ed will ever hear?
All he can do is speak from his heart. “Ed,” he says, quietly. “I messed up. I messed all of this up. I should’ve fought harder for us. I thought I was protecting you. But I hurt you. I’m sorry, Ed. I’m sorry.” His voice cracks again as he keeps repeating it like a mantra. “I’m sorry.”
He can’t keep back a sob now; it wracks his whole body. “Please wake up, Ed. Please.” The urgency grows in his voice. “I’m here. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never let anyone keep us apart again.” He’s full-on crying now; tears pouring down his face. “Come back to me! Ed, don’t die. Please don’t die.” The thought of losing Ed forever—of the world losing Ed forever—is quite literally unbearable. “I’m here. You’re safe.” If he wills it hard enough, if he makes Ed feel safe enough, can he bring him back?
“Come back to me, Ed,” Stede pleads with his whole heart, looking for any flicker, any sign that his messages are getting through. Every bit of hope and love he’s ever felt in his life are going into these words. His voice lowers to a whisper. “Please come back to me.”
Stede squeezes his hand, full of growing despair, the well of grief inside him threatening to swallow him whole.
And then. Then.
Ed’s eyes open. Those big, brown eyes; the most beautiful ones Stede has ever seen. Ed stares at nothing for a few agonizing moments, blinking, and Stede is gripped with anxiety: is Ed there? Is he himself? Can he remember?
Then Ed looks over at Stede. And Stede sees the Ed he adores looking back at him. He’s in there. He’s going to be okay.
It feels like a miracle. Like resurrection. Like all the faith Stede had as a child that he left behind, or thought he did. Stede feels the dawn breaking inside him; feels the astonishment and wonder and joy on his own face.
Then Ed pulls his hand away and turns his head. And Stede’s heart shivers into a billion tiny slivers once more.
Ed’s mum rushes to his side. “Ed!” she cries, tears streaming down her face. Stede steps back. Ed is her child, and he turned away from him; Stede doesn’t want to make things worse. As always, he makes everything worse.
Stede quietly backs up toward the door and leaves the room. He’s not currently capable of conscious thought. His feet take him to the waiting area they’d passed on their way to Ed’s room; he finds a chair, sits down, draws his feet up, and hugs his knees tightly. And then he cries as if his heart would break. Body-wracking sob after sob, tears soaking into his jeans; the painful, out-of-control way he hasn’t cried since he was a small child.
A world without Edward Teach is unthinkable. A world with Ed, but where Stede still can’t reach him, is intolerable. But what can he do? All that’s possible right now is to ride out this storm of mingled relief and mourning.
Ed’s alive. But whether he’ll ever take Stede back—whether Stede’s own life can begin again—is another question entirely.
Notes:
I cried when I wrote it, if that’s any consolation 🥺
Ed’s accident is, unfortunately, modeled after one that happened to some classmates when I was in high school. Otherwise, we’re obviously staying pretty tightly glued to canon here, since it translates so well.
Thank you for sticking it out with me, dear readers and commenters 🫶
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It’s late by the time Stede gets home from the hospital, so he’s able to escape any interrogation; in the morning, he grabs a banana and granola bar and bolts to school. He tracks down the Crew throughout the day, letting them know what happened; since it involved another student and not just Ed, the news moves through the school quickly, though they aren’t the ones to spread the gossip.
“We’ll go and see him,” Jim assures Stede. “And we’ll take him any messages you want.” Stede has also been telling them how his parents made him break up with Ed; he was never actually prohibited from doing so, and what difference does it make anyway, when there are life-and-death matters at stake?
“I have an idea,” Stede says. “I just need an hour or two after school.”
Luckily his teachers aren’t currently attempting to get them to learn anything new, since all Stede is doing is formulating his plan in his mind throughout his classes. As soon as school is out, he makes a run to the music store in the mall; afterwards, he spends an hour with his stereo, copying songs from CDs and cassingles to a cassette tape. He labels it carefully and simply—“Dear Ed”—then calls his friends and drives around town to pick up the crew. Zheng and Oluwande already walked to a florist and bought an arrangement that will be a gift from all of them; they hold it carefully in the car as Stede drives them all to the hospital.
Stede parks and leads them into the visitor entrance; they check in, and Stede hands Archie his mixtape inside a Walkman. “Can you give this to Ed?” he asks.
“Aren’t you coming with us?” Olu says, with surprise.
Stede shakes his head. “I don’t think he wants to see me, and I don’t want to stress him out. The moment he asks for me, I’m there. But I’ll just wait here for you, okay?”
“Okay,” they all say, concern and sympathy on their faces. Jim gives him a squeeze before they all walk to the elevator; it makes Stede realize just how badly he needed a hug.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything while waiting, so he didn’t bother bringing anything to do. He merely paces around, trying to calm his jangled nerves, thinking through what he’ll say to Ed if he gets the chance.
After a half hour, the crew reappears downstairs. “How is he?” Stede asks, anxiously.
“He’s sitting up and talking,” Jim replies, smiling in a comforting way. “He says his head hurts, and he’s really tired.”
“The doctors say he’s lucky he’s young,” Zheng adds. “He should make a full recovery, if he takes it easy this summer.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Stede exhales a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. And he can’t restrain his curiosity any longer: “Did you give him the tape?”
“Yes,” Zheng replies, though that’s all she says.
The expression on her face—on all their faces—make the reception clear: they all look hesitant, like they’re being careful of Stede’s feelings and don’t want to be the bearers of bad news. “But he’s not gonna listen to it, right?” Stede says, with an ironic half-laugh.
They all shake their heads. “He didn’t throw it away, so that’s something,” Olu replies.
“And his mum definitely thinks you saved his life,” Archie adds, trying to be encouraging.
Stede smiles with as much gusto as he can muster, which isn’t a lot. “If I did anything to help, I’m glad.”
“Oh! Stede!” Zheng exclaims. “I totally forgot.” She begins rummaging in her purse. “I don’t know if this is a bad time, but…” A few seconds later, she finds what she’s looking for: a photo envelope, which she hands to Stede. “The pictures of you and Ed in the limo are in there. And the negatives.” Her voice is quiet; she’s being far gentler than she normally is.
“Thank you,” Stede chokes out; he’s barely able to speak. He doesn’t dare look at the photos right now, since there’s no way he could see them without crying. “I really, really appreciate it.”
As they walk to the car for Stede to drive them all home, he tries to stay as positive as he can, but it’s a tall ask. After he drops them off at each of their houses and eventually makes it home, he still doesn’t look at the photos; he can’t yet afford to break down. He waits until bedtime, when he can be confident his parents won’t bother him. And then at last, sitting on his bed, Stede opens the envelope, slides out the prints, and gazes at them.
Oh, my god. His and Ed’s faces. They’re so happy. So thrilled to be together. There’s no mistaking it. It’s so evident in the way they look at each other, their genuine smiles radiating joy.
Stede gently slides the photos back into the envelope. He sets it down on the bed beside him, covers his face, and sobs. This was so much to lose. The contrast between what he was feeling in those pictures and his current despair is devastating beyond measure. And yet—Stede is so glad to have this concrete evidence of their happiness together. It was real. What they felt was real. What he still feels for Ed is real. Nothing can take that from him.
Stede goes to the window, opens the shade, and looks out at the trees and the grass and the neighboring houses. The moon is shining down coolly and dispassionately, throwing muted light everywhere, without judgement. It’s helpful to fix his attention on something so beautiful and distant. It takes him out of himself just a bit; away from the overwhelming pain of the present.
It’s enough to help Stede let a crack of light into his heart. Maybe Ed will change his mind. Maybe out of boredom, if nothing else, he’ll put on the headphones and give his musical missive a listen. Stede has to cling to that possibility, or there’s no way he can make it through tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that. There’s so much time stretching out before him. Decades, most likely.
Stede has to believe Ed can still be part of his life—that they can have more than one idyllic night; that he can have a chance to explain, if nothing else—or he can’t face any of the future to come.
***
Ed is…something. It’s hard to find words now; difficult even to have a full thought. Can’t put up with the light in his eyes for too long. Even shifting in the bed makes his head pound. Not to mention that he can’t name a body part that doesn’t hurt.
Things are clearer now than they were. Sometimes he tries to remember, to sort out the mess in his head; it isn’t easy.
Some time earlier
After the horrible, endless seconds or minutes or hours of the swerve and crash—the fear that seared through him like lightning; the thought that he’d never see Stede again, never touch him again—there’s nothing. So much nothing it has a thickness and texture to it. Muffled sounds; occasionally a thinning of the darkness; mostly absence that is, frankly, a relief. Who is he? He doesn’t even know.
That stretches on, and on. Time doesn’t exist. Just the ongoing, eternal dark, spreading out in every direction.
Something shifts. Through the pea-soup fog, unexpectedly, vague shapes: an orange-gold shimmer. A brilliant smile. Waves.
Then a voice. It’s full of anguish.
First he can’t make out any words. But the voice keeps going. He hears the pain in the sounds, though he can’t understand.
He surfaces through a few layers; the nonsense begins to coalesce. The fog is lifting just enough. Those are words. The voice is making words. “Ed,” it’s saying. Who is Ed? Sounds familiar. Oh—he must be Ed. Okay. That’s something.
More words. He can understand them now. “I’m sorry,” the voice says. “Please wake up, Ed. Please. I’m here. I’ll never leave you.” It sounds desperate. If only Ed could get through a few more layers. If only these shadows would loosen their grip.
Ed concentrates. If he works at it, he can follow the voice. “Come back to me, Ed,” the voice is saying. Begging. Pleading. “Please come back to me.”
One more push. A massive effort.
Ed opens his eyes. Golden hair gleaming like a halo. Hazel eyes full of tears.
He doesn’t even need to think about it. He knows.
Stede. It’s Stede. Stede’s been calling him back.
But—no. No. Stede equals pain. He’s not a rescuing angel; he’s a tormentor. Ed turns away.
More time drifting after that. Peaceful oblivion. Ed sleeps a lot, moving in and out of conscious awareness. Every now and then he wakes, and it’s an unfamiliar face in front of him, peering at him. Sometimes it’s his mum’s worried one; that one he recognizes. One time he opens his eyes: there’s a blue sparkle in his eyeline. That's a hard no. He closes them.
He opens his eyes again, and somehow, it’s Archie and Jim and Oluwande and Zheng all around the bed. Ed knows it’s a bed now; knows he was in an accident, knows he’s supposedly lucky to be alive. He’s in a clearer patch when his visitors are there; he can think of words and say them, even joke a bit. But he can see from their faces they’re worried. “I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” he assures them. And that’s what the doctors say: the fogginess and pain are normal; they’ll subside with rest.
Ed does remember the burning stab of fear from the Right Before. Apparently when push came to shove, he did want to live, though it’s hard to imagine why.
His hand touches something; he picks it up to look. Right. The Crew left a Walkman for him. There’s a tape inside from Stede.
Ed lets it drop; lets his body fall back onto the pillows. He needs a lot more healing before he’s ready for that.
If he’ll ever be.
Notes:
Thank you for hanging in there with me and these lads 🫶
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It’s Friday; the last day of school. Ed never thought he’d say this, but he wishes he were there. He’s feeling better enough to be bored, and if there’s anything in this world he hates with a passion, it’s feeling bored.
Still not bored enough to listen to the tape, though. He knows he’s not strong enough in body or mind to cope with that.
In the afternoon, his mum comes by. “I left work early to clean out your locker,” she says. “There were all these bits of paper in the bottom.” She puts a large pile of folded-up pieces of paper on the blanket. “They look like…teddy bears?”
“Oh. Yeah. Know what those are.” He pushes the pile away from him. “You can throw ‘em out.”
But his mum doesn’t make a move to pick them up. “I think, maybe,” she says gently, “You might like to read them?”
“Why?” He glares at her. “What makes you say that? Were you snooping at my stuff?”
“I wasn’t!” she protests. “I just opened one to see what it was. And…I don’t know what happened with you two, but…I think Stede really cares about you.”
“Mum,” Ed says, with as much frosty dignity as one can while lying in a bed wearing a hospital gown, “you have no freaking idea what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe not.” She holds up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “But I think you’ll always wonder what they said if you don’t read them.”
Dang it. She knows his weakness. Knows he’s always been curious about anything and everything. That’s why school has always been easy, even when he’s had to divide his time with work; even when concentrating on boring stuff is so tough. He wants to know all the things. If there’s a puzzle, he wants to crack it. A mystery, he wants to solve it.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Maybe.”
“I have to go to work.” She leans in and kisses him gently on the cheek. “It’s up to you, of course, when and if you want to read them.”
She heads out of the room with one last wave, and Ed’s left alone with the tv and his thoughts. What’s Mum thinking, anyway? Hasn’t he been through enough already? Why pick at the scab, when he’s still recovering, for fuck’s sake?
He picks up a handful of the notes and lets them drop from his hand, just to watch them fall. He hasn’t read a single one. Only looked at one long enough to see Stede’s scrawling signature at the end, before dropping it back in the bottom of his locker as if it singed his skin. Never touched one again. Couldn’t be arsed to throw ‘em out, even. Why should he? Why should he waste one more second of his time on anything having to do with Stede?
Ed did notice that the heap at the bottom of his locker seemed to grow day by day. Good. Let ‘em pile up and gather dust. Fuck if he cared.
The last thing he expected was for these…things to find him here. But now, when he has nowhere to go and nothing to do, here they are.
He starts fiddling with the note closest to him. What does it say? He’s immediately furious that the question even enters his mind. What does it matter? What could Stede possibly say that would make a difference?
“I think you’ll always wonder what they said if you don’t read them.” God fucking dammit. Why does Mum have to have his number? He should toss ‘em now. Do what he didn’t—or couldn’t—before.
But she’s right. He does fucking want to know.
He could fight it awhile longer, yeah, but he knows he’s gonna give in, in the end. Why drag it out, just to be stubborn? No one’s here to witness any amazing displays of willpower. And celebrating that victory on his own would feel beyond hollow.
He looks at the note he’s holding. Last chance to save himself from whatever’s in there.
Ed takes a deep breath, unfolds the bear, and begins to read:
Dear Ed,
I don’t know if you’ll ever be willing to read these notes, but I have to write them. I have to put into words how much I care about you, even if you never see them.
I adore you, Ed. I don’t know what happened; I thought you knew that breaking up was never my choice. Believe me, you have my whole heart. My whole soul. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.
I’ll explain everything if you ever let me speak to you again. I thought I was protecting you and your mum. It was the only choice I thought I could make. But I should’ve fought harder for us. My heart is broken. And it’s so much worse to know that I hurt you.
I dream of you constantly. All I can think about is dancing with you, and kissing you, and how lovely you are. How perfect every moment felt when we were together. How much I want to touch you and hold you, still.
No matter what happens, even if you never forgive me, I care so deeply about you, Ed. I hope you can sense it, even if you never read this. Because I belong to you forever.
Yours,
Stede
By the end of the letter, the words are getting blurry, and not from Ed’s head injury. He opens the next folded bear, and the next, and keeps reading. They’re all like this. Pages and pages of yearning, affectionate words for him. For him, unlovable as he is.
Well, fuck. This is deeply confusing.
After he finishes reading the last note, Ed sits quietly for a few minutes, blinking hard. He knows the last thing he should do is listen to Stede’s mixtape, especially right now. But there’s not much else happening, is there? Everything on tv is so boring, and no one is visiting. Plus, he’s not operating at full capacity, all right? So sue him.
The Walkman is on the table beside him, as yet untouched. Ed picks it up and puts the headphones on, wincing slightly at the pressure. He sets it to a low volume; his head can’t handle any more than that.
One more fortifying breath, and he pushes the “play” button. It snaps down with a satisfying click.
And—fuckin’ hell. If Stede doesn’t get him right off the bat with Mary J.:
Time on my hands
Since you've been away, boy
I ain’t got no plans, no no no no
And the sound of the rain, against my windowpane
Is slowly, is slowly drivin’ me insane, boy
I'm goin’ down
I'm goin’ down
Cause you ain’t around, baby
My whole world’s upside down
The slow beat and soaring vocals get Ed right where it counts. And even though they never got to spend a ton of time together, Stede obviously picked up on what kind of music he likes.
Sleep don’t come easy
Boy please believe me
Since you been gone
Everything’s goin’ wrong
Why’d you have to say goodbye
Look what you’ve done to me
I can’t stop these tears from fallin’ from my eyes
Look. Ed would be lying if he said it wasn't comforting to know Stede’s been suffering.
The mix goes right from Mary J.’s soulful singing to Bryan Adams’ aptly titled “Please Forgive Me”:
It still feels like our first night together
Feels like the first kiss
And it’s getting better baby
No one can better this
I'm still holding on, you’re still the one
Shit. Hitting him with first kiss memories? That’s not playing fair.
Please forgive me, I know not what I do
Please forgive me, I can’t stop loving you
Don’t deny me, this pain I’m going through
Please forgive me, if I need you like I do
Please believe me, every word I say is true
Please forgive me, I can’t stop loving you
All right. That has the right vibe. But the jury is very much still out.
Ed has to chuckle a little when the next song is Boys II Men’s “End of the Road.” If there’s a more classic breakup song than this one, he can’t think of it.
Although we’ve come
To the end of the road
Still I can’t let go
It’s unnatural
You belong to me
I belong to you
Ed’s hardly surprised that Celine Dion makes the cut with “Where Does My Heart Beat Now.” He can’t help a fond little smile creeping onto his face. That kid likes some drama:
Candle in the water
Drifting helplessly
Hiding from the thunder
Come and rescue me
Driven by the hunger
Of the endless dream
I’m searching for the hand that I can hold
I’m reaching for the arms that let me know
Where do silent hearts go?
Where does my heart beat now?
Where is the sound
That only echoes through the night?
After Celine finishes singing her heart out, Monica’s “Before You Walk Out of My Life” brings it back to the apology of it all:
Never meant to cause you no pain
I just wanna go back to being the same
Well, I only wanna make things right
Before you walk out my life
And Toni Braxton’s “Another Sad Love Song” is more than fitting:
As soon as I jumped into my ride
Those memories start to play, yeah
A song comes on, on the radio
And there you are, baby, once again
It's just another sad love song
Rackin’ my brain like crazy
Guess I'm all torn up
Be it fast or slow
It doesn’t let go
Or shake me
And it’s all because of you, oh
Stede has regrets, if Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time” is any indication. But overall, the song is upbeat:
I didn’t really mean to hurt you
I didn’t wanna see you go
I know I made you cry, but baby
If I could turn back time
If I could find a way
I’d take back those words that’ve hurt you
And you’d stay
And, well. As soon as he hears the opening riffs of the next song, one side of Ed’s mouth turns up in a wry smile. Stede’s really hitting below the belt now, bringing up memories of the eventful day at Cedar Point that started it all:
This Romeo is bleedin’, but you can’t see his blood
It’s nothin’ but some feelin’s that this old dog kicked up
It’s been rainin’ since you left me, now I’m drownin’ in the flood
You see, I’ve always been a fighter, but without you, I give up
And how can he possibly survive the onslaught of feelings, once Jon Bon Jovi starts belting out the chorus?
Yeah I will love you, baby
Always
And I’ll be there forever and a day
Always
I’ll be there ‘til the stars don’t shine
‘Til the heavens burst and the words don’t rhyme
And I know when I die, you’ll be on my mind
And I’ll love you
Always
Damn. Stede is making Ed feel a thing.
Now your pictures that you left behind are just memories of a different life
Some that made us laugh, some that made us cry, one that made you have to say goodbye
What I’d give to run my fingers through your hair, to touch your lips, to hold you near
When you say your prayers, try to understand
I’ve made mistakes, I’m just a man
By the time the epic bridge hits, okay, yeah. He’s a puddle:
If you told me to cry for you, I could
If you told me to die for you, I would
Take a look at my face
There’s no price I won’t pay
To say these words to you
Stede’s song choices all along have been making him wonder; now Ed can’t help letting the question come to the forefront of his mind. Is Stede in love with him? For real?
Well, there ain’t no luck
In these loaded dice
But baby, if you give me just one more try
We can pack up our old dreams
And our old lives
We’ll find a place where the sun still shines
Yeah I will love you, baby
Always
And I’ll be there forever and a day
Always
By the time the final chorus ends and the song begins fading out, Ed’s made up his mind. Fuck it. No one knows better than he now does that life is short. He takes off the headphones and reaches for the phone beside his hospital bed; he puts in the code to get an outside line, then dials. It rings on the other end.
Someone answers. “Hello?”
“Stede?“ Ed says. “That you?”
He hears Stede gasp. “Ed?”
“Yeah, s’me.” Ed takes a deep breath. “So. Wanted to tell you. You can come and see me.”
“Oh my god!” Stede’s voice is full of utter disbelief and amazement. “I’ll be there in five minutes! Ten! Five!” He sounds mildly hysterical. “As quick as I can!”
“Don’t get a speeding ticket.” Stede can’t see him, so Ed doesn’t suppress the grin that wants to plant itself on his face, as he listens to Stede growing incoherent with excitement.
“I won’t! Okay! I’ll see you soon!” Stede babbles.
“See you soon. Bye.” Ed hangs up. Is this a very good or very bad idea?
Time will tell, Ed supposes.
Notes:
Hooray!! Finally something hopeful to share with you patient, lovely folks ❤️
I do have Stede’s mixtape as a Spotify playlist as well as those embedded Youtube links above.
Always always grateful for your comments 🫶
Chapter Text
Stede feels like his heart is going to pound its way straight out of his chest. He doesn’t stop to tell anyone where he’s going; he doesn’t look in the mirror; he merely grabs his keys and wallet with shaking hands and runs to The Revenge. It takes about five tries to get the key in the ignition, but he manages it. You have to drive safely. A ticket or an accident will only delay things. You’ve survived this long, he tells himself. But when the estranged love of your life who almost died tells you he’s willing to see you, it’s kind of impossible to stay calm about it.
Stede drives to the hospital as rapidly but carefully as he can, staying just above the speed limit, not fast enough that he risks getting pulled over. He parks, dashes into the hospital, checks in, then takes off at a run. He knows the way to Ed’s room by heart, even though he’s only been once. That terrible, miraculous night is seared into his brain forever.
In just a few minutes, he’s knocking at Ed’s door. “Come in,” Ed says.
Stede’s hit with a sudden wave of trepidation; he’s been so focused on getting here quickly that he hasn’t actually thought through what might happen. Well, he just has to be brave, he supposes. He opens the door and walks in.
Ed looks much better; he’s sitting up, alert, with his hair pulled back neatly. But he’s clearly still not at one hundred percent. His ordeal has only left him looking more ethereally beautiful, Stede thinks. As if he needed any reminder of Ed’s preciousness. His fragility.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, coming to sit on the stool next to the bed.
Ed shrugs just slightly. “Better. Bored. Still tired. Still headachy. But they say that’ll go away eventually.” Ed pauses; he doesn’t seem interested in continuing with small talk. “Got your letters. And your mixtape.”
Stede feels his face relax into a smile. “Oh, I’m glad. So you read them? And you listened to it?”
Ed nods. “I did. You wrote me some lovely letters.”
Oh, how that makes Stede’s heart dissolve in his chest. “Ed. My dear Ed,” he says, earnestly. “I meant every single word I wrote in them.”
Ed huffs a small laugh. “Was hoping so, or I’m kinda an idiot for even talking to you.”
“You’re not an idiot!” Stede exclaims. “If anybody is, I am. I let all of this happen.”
But Ed waves that away, at least for the time being. “There’s just one thing that makes no sense to me. Maybe it’s the head injury, but I still don’t get it.”
“What is it?” Stede asks, anxiously. “You can ask me whatever. Please. Anything you like.”
“You’re right that I thought your parents were making you break up with me.” Stede nods emphatically; it's a relief to confirm that Ed did suss it out. “But why did you turn around and go on a date with someone else the same fucking day?”
Stede’s completely taken aback by the question; he gawps at Ed for a moment. “What? No, I didn’t!”
Ed stares right back at him, frowning. “Really, Stede? You’re gonna sit there and deny it?”
“I have no idea what—” It suddenly dawns on him what Ed’s talking about; he abruptly shuts his mouth. “Oh,” he continues, finally. “You mean with Mary?” It was so far from a date in his own mind that he forgot that’s what it was intended to be. But he’s still mystified: “How’d you even know about that?”
“That’s what you have to say about it?” Ed’s practically growling; his simmering rage is clear as day. “You were counting on me not finding out, huh? Now I know you were never planning to tell me. What the fuck, Stede?” Ed grips his blanket tightly in both hands; his whole body is tense. But behind the anger, Stede can see the deep, deep hurt in his eyes. “Who’s this Mary, then?”
“What? No!” Everything Stede’s saying right now is coming out wrong, apparently. He has to fix this: the last thing he wants is to send Ed into an emotional state that will slow down his healing or set him back. “It wasn’t a date. I mean, it was supposed to be! But my parents made me go on it. They set me and Mary up to try to turn me straight or whatever. After someone ratted us out about dancing at the park. Probably Jack.” He pauses, trying to collect himself, gripping his knees with his hands, doing his best to ensure the rest comes out correctly. “I wasn’t trying to hide it. I had no idea you knew about that, but if we’d ever had a chance to talk, I would’ve told you. And it meant absolutely nothing to me romantically.” The more he thinks about it, the more he can see how heartless it would have seemed from Ed’s perspective. No wonder Ed wanted nothing to do with him after that. “Oh god, Ed. I’m so sorry.” But he’s still confused about how all of this happened: “Did someone tell you we were there?”
“Got a job at that restaurant on Friday,” Ed says, by way of explanation. “Was going to tell you when I saw you at school on Monday. Wasn’t supposed to start work until Tuesday, but they called me to come in on Sunday, and boom! There you were.” Ed‘s no longer clutching the blanket, though now he’s picking at where it rests on his legs. “I just…couldn’t believe you broke up with me and went out with a girl the same night. With her boobs hanging out and everything. And you were laughing and looked so…happy.” Ed’s voice turns both bitter and resentful as he mutters the final word; Stede can’t blame him whatsoever.
“Oh, Ed.” Stede’s full of sorrow about what a bloody mess they’ve found themselves in. “I was only happy because nerding out with her helped me forget everything for a while, and because she was kind and said she’d pretend to go out with me whenever you and I needed cover. Mary’s nice. I wasn’t looking at her boobs at all.” He pauses, exhaling a quick laugh. “If there’s one thing I’m sure of these days, it’s that I’m really not interested in girls.”
“Well. Shit.” Ed’s visibly wrapping his damaged head around this new information; he’s starting to look deflated.
The last thing Stede wants is for Ed to blame himself for misunderstanding what he saw, if that’s what he’s doing. “It totally makes sense that it would look like something it wasn’t,” Stede says, trying to reassure him. “It must have seemed like I ditched you and moved on right away. I hate that you thought that. I went on that ‘date’ so Mary’s feelings wouldn’t get hurt, but I should have refused. If I’d had any idea you’d see us and think it was a real date, I would have said no.” Stede pauses. He wants to say the right thing now; he needs his words to bring Ed solace, if they can. “Knowing I hurt you so badly, twice in one day, breaks my heart all over again. But, Ed. I never stopped caring about you and missing you. Not for one single second.”
Ed takes a deep breath; he seems to be trying to re-center himself. “Yeah. Kinda got that idea when I read these. Or I wouldn’t have called you.” Ed gestures toward his pile of notes, looking down at them for a few seconds. Then he meets Stede’s eyes; for the first time, there’s a hint of the softness Stede loved seeing in them before. “Glad I wasn’t completely wrong about you caring for me.”
Oh, how that squeezes Stede’s heart. “Ed. Sweetheart. Those notes barely scratch the surface.” Seeing that tiny hint of vulnerability come back gives Stede the courage to risk some touch. He slowly reaches over and takes Ed’s hand, holding it loosely, in case Ed wants to reclaim it. When he doesn’t, Stede squeezes it very gently, then holds it in both of his. And the next words simply say themselves: “Ed. I love you.” Stede’s voice is earnest and steady. “I shouldn’t have waited to say it. I mean, it felt like it was too soon to say it. But I was feeling it.” Ever since Ed’s accident, Stede’s been so afraid he’d never get the chance to say those three important words to him; he’s not willing to wait for some mythical perfect moment to say them. And oddly enough, it doesn’t feel like a big pronouncement, though it’s deeply significant; it’s just the natural overflow of what he’s been feeling this entire time. He loves Ed. He all but said so in his letters; he was saying so with his mixtape.
Stede loves Ed, and it makes his life richer to do so. And he needs Ed to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he does. Simple as that.
“Yeah, well.” Ed looks away, then looks back at Stede through his lashes, in the way that makes Stede’s heart skip a beat every time. “You called me back out of the dark. It was your voice that led me out.” Ed pauses briefly. “You saved my life.” He doesn’t say “I love you” back, but that’s okay; Stede doesn’t need him to. He hopes Ed will someday, but only if and when he feels ready.
And what Ed said just now is so deeply moving. “My darling,” Stede whispers. He feels the tears prickling his eyes, but he doesn’t fight it. “That was the worst night of my life, when I thought I might lose you. That maybe I already had.” Then he glances over; his ring on the chain is still on the small side table. “And you were wearing my ring?” he asks, a little timidly. “The whole time, or…?”
Ed huffs a wry laugh. “Hadn’t since that day at the restaurant. May have torn up the flowers and the All-4-One tape, too.”
”Ohh.” All that is fair, though so painful. What a tragedy for Ed to think that wonderful night didn’t mean anything to Stede.
Ed shrugs, though it’s more of a “what’s past is past” shrug, not an “I don’t care” one. “That night, when the accident happened…was gonna go out and do all the stupid shit I could. Hopefully end up dead at the end of it.” Stede flinches; he can’t manage not to. He appreciates Ed’s honesty, his willingness to be open, but it’s also impossible to hear those words from someone he loves without pain. Ed’s voice goes extra quiet. “And I…wanted you with me, when I went. As messed up as that is. As I am.”
Stede tries to blink back his tears, though one or two escapes; he wipes them quickly with the back of his hand. “You’re not, Ed. I mean, not more messed up than anyone else. Not more than I am, anyway. I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, but I still did.” Ed’s gazing at him, listening deeply. Stede keeps going: “Everything you saw made you think I didn’t care. But I did, and I do. So much. And I am so unbelievably thankful you’re alive.” He smiles at Ed through the mistiness.
“Yeah. Guess I’m kinda glad too.’ Ed smiles back; his eyes are also looking a tad moist. After a beat, “So what exactly did your parents say to you?” he asks. “To get you to break up with me?”
Stede grimaces. “My dad told me he’d get your mum fired from her jobs if I didn’t. He has a lot of connections, and money talks, you know? So I felt like I had no choice but to go along with it. I couldn’t stand anything happening to your family and it being my fault.”
Ed raises a questioning eyebrow. “Your dad really is a dick too, huh?”
Stede exhales a sharp laugh full of endless bitterness. ”Yeah. He really is.”
“So what happens now?” Ed asks, after a beat. “Do they know you’re here?”
Stede shakes his head. “Nope. But I’m done hiding. What’s the use? I did what he wanted, and you almost died. I’ll figure something out.” Stede squeezes Ed’s hand again. “Meanwhile, good luck getting rid of me. School’s out, and I don’t have a job. So I’ll be here every day until they kick me out. Maybe I just won’t go home at all.”
”You should sleep in your own bed,” Ed protests. “I still sleep a lot, anyway.”
”Well, maybe. But all I want is to spend every waking moment with you.”
”Won’t complain if you spend most of them with me,” Ed says with a smile. How wonderful all of this is, Stede thinks. What an incredible relief. Speaking aloud his feelings for Ed; rebuilding their camaraderie; seeing a tiny bit of ease coming back to Ed’s face. He’ll be overjoyed to do whatever it takes to make and keep things good between them. It will be his honor to do it.
Notes:
Delighted to have reached this point in the story with you all ❤️ much love and (consensual) kisses to commenters 🫶
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