Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ed cursed under his breath as he hauled the last of his boxes up the stairs, his knee already protesting with a sharp ache. At least he wasn’t doing it alone. Fang trudged ahead of him, carrying an oversized duffle like it weighed nothing, while Ivan followed behind, muttering about how next time they should just burn all of Ed’s belongings and start fresh.

Izzy, for his part, merely scowled and carried a suspiciously light box. At least he wasn’t moving it alone. The landlord had conveniently failed to mention the lack of an elevator when he signed the lease, but the rent was cheap (now he knew why), and the location was solid. That didn’t make the stairs any less of a nightmare, especially with Izzy barking orders about proper box-stacking technique and Fang cheerfully ignoring him.

The apartment was modern, all sleek lines and sharp angles, wrapped in contemporary finishes that made it look expensive, even if the price suggested otherwise. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, and the open-concept layout gave it a spacious feel, but it lacked warmth. It was a unit meant to be lived in, but not necessarily lived with.

Ed didn’t need much, though. The single-bedroom setup was fine. He had enough space to stretch out, a kitchen with decent appliances, and a bathroom that didn’t look like it belonged in a horror movie. It wasn’t fancy, but it worked. The only real oddity was the balcony.

The builder, in their infinite wisdom, had designed the structure so that his balcony wasn’t his alone—it was shared with the apartment next door. Two doors, one narrow stretch of black metal railing, barely enough room for two people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. An architectural afterthought. A compromise in a city where space was either abundant or fought over tooth and nail.

Ed set down the last box, rolling his shoulder and stretching his knee, muttering about structural oversight. "This place is a bloody fortress," Ivan griped, rubbing his shoulder.

"Yeah, Teach, next time get a place with an elevator," Fang said with a wide grin, collapsing onto the couch.

"Or at least one where we don’t have to carry a couch up six flights," Ivan added.

"Could’ve just left it on the street," Izzy grumbled, crossing his arms. "Not like you need furniture."

Ed smirked. "Nah, but I do need a place to sit while I watch you lot suffer."

Fang let out a booming laugh, nudging Ivan. "He’s got a point. All this effort just for him to lounge around like a king."

"You’d do the same if it were you," Ed shot back, flopping onto the couch they had finally wrangled up the stairs.

Ivan rolled his eyes but grinned. "Yeah, yeah. Next time, we’re hiring movers."

Izzy scoffed. "Next time? If Edward moves again, he’s on his own."

"Oh come on, Iz," Ed teased.

Izzy just grumbled something unintelligible, but Ed caught the small smirk tugging at his lips.

Meanwhile, Fang wandered out onto the balcony, stepping into the cool evening air. "Oi, Ivan—look at this," he called over his shoulder. Ivan followed him out, pausing at the sight of the second balcony door. "That’s weird, yeah? Looks like it leads to the other apartment."

Ivan knocked on the metal railing with curiosity. "What kind of builder makes a shared balcony? That’s just askin’ for trouble."

"Maybe his neighbor will be some quiet hermit who never comes out," Fang suggested, leaning on the railing.

Ed snorted. "Yeah, and maybe I’ll win the lottery."

"Either way," Ivan added, smirking, "if they turn out to be a pain, you could always just pretend this door doesn’t exist."

Ed sighed, running a hand through his hair. Maybe his neighbor would be cool. Or maybe they’d be a nightmare, the kind of person who never acknowledged shared space etiquette. He’d had enough of that in past rentals. At least if they kept to themselves, he could pretend the balcony was his alone, a small slice of the city just for him.

A week passed, and Ed settled in, though his place still bore the fingerprints of his friends. Fang had taken it upon himself to rearrange the furniture for ‘better energy flow,’ Ivan had stocked the fridge with an excessive amount of energy drinks, and Izzy had mostly stood around, arms crossed, pointing out minor flaws in the apartment’s construction.

He’d taken to stepping out onto the balcony late at night for a smoke, enjoying the quiet. The city lights flickered beyond, and the hum of traffic below was oddly soothing. No sign of the neighbor yet, which suited him fine.

Then, on a Tuesday, Stede Bonnet moved in.

Ed heard the commotion first. The thud of furniture being moved, the occasional Kiwi-accented exclamation, and the unmistakable sound of something fragile shattering, followed by a horrified gasp. He smirked to himself but didn’t investigate. Not his problem.

What was his problem, apparently, was that now his balcony wasn’t just his anymore. It was only a matter of time before he met the new occupant of the unit next door.

That moment came sooner than expected.

It was late. Ed had stepped out for a cigarette, the glow of the city casting soft shadows along the balcony floor. He was mid-drag when the door beside him slid open with a gentle whoosh.

A man stepped out. Blonde, well-dressed even in what appeared to be nightwear. And what nightwear it was. An elaborate banyan, rich with color and intricate patterns, draped over him as though he’d stepped out of a portrait of some 18th-century aristocrat. The sight was so unexpected, so utterly not what Ed had anticipated, that he momentarily forgot how to exhale.

The man blinked at him, seemingly just as startled. Then, after a moment’s pause, he smiled. “Oh! Hello.”

Ed, still caught between amusement and confusion, exhaled smoke and nodded. “Hey.”

“I wasn’t expecting anyone out here,” the man continued, stepping forward slightly. “I suppose we’re neighbors.” He extended a hand. “Stede Bonnet.”

Ed hesitated, then flicked his cigarette before shaking Stede’s hand. “Edward Teach. Born on a beach.”

Stede laughed, a warm, delighted sound that Ed instantly found himself addicted to. He wanted to make him laugh more.

“Were you really?” Stede asked, still grinning.

“Nah,” Ed admitted with a smirk. “Just like the rhyme.”

Stede tilted his head, considering him. “Well, at least we’re countrymen. Both from Aotearoa.”

Ed nodded. "Yeah. Guess we are."

Then Stede, smiling again, asked, “Would you like some tea?”

Ed arched a brow. “Tea?”

“Yes. I was about to make some anyway.” Stede tilted his head, considering him. “How do you take it?”

Ed smirked, unable to help himself. “Seven sugars. Dollop of cream.”

Stede’s mouth twitched, his expression shifting from surprise to fond amusement. “Seven sugars? That’s—well, that’s a lot, Edward.” His tone was light, teasing, but not unkind. "But I’m happy to indulge you." He turned toward his door. "Give me a moment."

And just like that, Ed found himself completely and utterly intrigued.

It wasn’t just Stede’s easy charm or the way he wore that ridiculous banyan with absolute confidence—it was the way he’d laughed, a sound so full of warmth it had wrapped around Ed like a favorite song. He wanted to hear it again, wanted to be the reason for it.

Maybe it was the way Stede had indulged his absurd tea order without hesitation, or the way he’d said his name like it was something worth knowing. Whatever it was, Ed found himself standing there longer than necessary, staring at the closed door Stede had disappeared behind, waiting for the moment he’d return.

Yeah, maybe sharing a balcony wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Stede took a deep breath, surveying the mess of half-unpacked boxes littering his new apartment. The move had been exhausting, but the space had promise. Unlike his last home, this was a two-story unit with clean, modern lines and enough space for him to settle into this next phase of his life. He had chosen it carefully—high enough to feel removed from the chaos of the city, but not so lofty that he couldn’t walk among it when he wanted.

He had moved here for work, but also for something deeper. Reinvention. Discovery. Freedom.

The last few years had been transformative. A year ago, his father had died, and with that final tether severed, he had found the courage to tell Mary the truth—he was gay. Newly out and standing on the precipice of a whole new life, he braced himself for the worst, but instead, Mary had simply sighed in relief. She had been waiting for him to say it, ready to share her own truth.

She had long been in love with Doug, her gallery partner, the man she had met in art school and reconnected with years later. They had built something beautiful together, and eventually, Evelyn had joined them, completing the picture.

Stede was happy for them, truly. But watching them build a life together made him realize—he needed to do the same. He needed to carve out something that belonged to him. And so, he left Boston and came to New York City.

Lucius had followed, of course. His friend and editorial assistant had barely hesitated when Stede announced he was opening his own literary agency—maybe even a bookstore one day. Lucius had been tired of Boston, ready for something new. Stede had helped him find an apartment, even offered to buy it outright, but Lucius had drawn the line there.

“Even I have boundaries, Stede,” he had said with an exaggerated eye-roll. So instead, Stede made sure Lucius got a generous bonus, promoted him within the agency, and promised to let him take on illustrative projects when the right clients came along.

To Stede’s surprise, plenty of clients had come along. Some had followed him from his father’s firm, which he had gutted, sold to the highest bidders, and left behind without a second thought. He had no interest in preserving the legacy of a miserable old sod who had spent years trying to mold him into something he would never be.

Others had sought him out once word spread that he was striking out on his own. Most of his former team remained in Boston, but a few were considering making the move. He wouldn’t be surprised if some of them arrived before the year was out.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he surveyed his new home. It still didn’t feel like his yet. But that was okay. It was a start.

The only thing he wasn’t entirely sure about was the shared balcony. It had seemed like a charming quirk when he signed the lease, but now, standing in his living room and eyeing the glass door leading outside, he felt hesitant. He had yet to meet his neighbor. For all he knew, they could be the loud, intrusive type—or worse, utterly unfriendly.

Still, he had survived far greater unknowns. This was just another step forward. And for the first time in a long while, Stede was truly looking forward to what came next.

Later that evening, he stepped onto the balcony, only to find himself face-to-face with his neighbor. A man with dark, tousled hair, leaning against the railing, cigarette in hand. Their first exchange had been unexpected—Ed had introduced himself with a ridiculous rhyme, and Stede, caught off guard, had laughed. The sound had surprised even himself, warm and unguarded.

Now, as he stepped back inside to make tea, his mind buzzed with excitement. Ed was gorgeous. Rough around the edges in a way that intrigued him, but with a smile that was impossible to ignore. Stede had always been drawn to people with a bit of a wild streak—something untamed, something unapologetic. And Ed? He carried that air effortlessly.

His hands worked on autopilot, pulling out the good tea set, the one with the delicate gold trim that Lucius always rolled his eyes at. He hesitated, then swapped it for the sturdier mugs instead. Something told him Ed wasn’t the gold-trim kind of person.

As he filled the kettle, he glanced toward the balcony and noticed something—there was no outdoor furniture. He had plenty, but all of it was up on his private rooftop veranda. A thought struck him. He could just hand Ed the tea and be done with it… or he could extend the moment, give himself more time to figure out the fluttering warmth curling in his chest.

The decision was easy.

He took a deep breath, balancing the cups carefully, and stepped back outside. "You know, I actually have a much better spot for this," he said, voice light but inviting. "Care to join me on the rooftop?"

Ed raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Rooftop, huh? Fancy."

Stede chuckled, shifting the mugs in his hands. "Well, it does have a rather spectacular view. And, more importantly, seating. Unlike this balcony, which I have just now realized is utterly impractical."

Ed smirked, flicking the last bit of his cigarette into the ashtray by the railing. "Alright, lead the way. But if this is a trick to push me off the building, at least let me finish my tea first."

Stede laughed again, genuinely delighted. "I assure you, nothing so sinister. Though I make no promises about the tea quality. You did request an alarming amount of sugar."

Ed followed Stede inside, stepping into the warm glow of the apartment. He took a moment to glance around, taking in the lavish decor—the artful furniture arrangements, the well-curated bookshelves, the elegant but cozy touches that made the place feel lived in. It was wildly different from his own space, but it suited Stede perfectly.

"You really went all in, huh?" Ed mused, nodding toward the decor.

Stede smiled, unbothered. "If you're going to do something, might as well commit to it fully. Besides, I've always had a flair for aesthetics."

Ed hummed, still absorbing the space, before gesturing with his chin. "Alright, show me this fancy rooftop of yours."

Stede led him up the stairs, his excitement barely contained. "Technically, the building has rooftop access, but my unit is the only one with a private section. Perks of having the second floor all to myself."

Ed let out an appreciative whistle. "Not bad. Didn't peg you for the exclusive type, though."

"Oh, I am in some ways," Stede admitted playfully. "Like having an entire extra room just for my clothes. I'm a bit of a clotheshorse."

Ed raised an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me you got a whole wardrobe room?"

Stede nodded, not the least bit ashamed. "Indeed. And the other room will be a library and study. Books and fine tailoring, my two great indulgences."

Ed let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You are a complete lunatic."

Stede blinked. "Pardon?"

Ed grinned, tilting his head as he took in the sheer enthusiasm written across Stede’s face. "I like it."

The words sent a warm thrill through Stede as he pushed open the door to the rooftop. The city stretched out before them, the skyline awash in golden hues and flickering lights.

Ed exhaled, genuinely impressed. "Okay. You weren’t kidding. This is incredible."

Stede smiled, handing Ed his tea. "Welcome to my little oasis."

Chapter Text

Ed had grown increasingly fond of Stede. What had started as casual tea on the shared balcony had become part of his daily routine. Morning tea with Stede, easy conversation drifting between them as the city woke around them.

In the evenings, Ed sometimes found himself drawn to the rooftop, where Stede would already be waiting, two glasses of brandy in hand. It had become effortless—comforting—in a way Ed hadn’t expected.

The problem was that Stede was on his mind far too often. Little things throughout the day reminded him of Stede—a line in a book, a piece of fabric in a store window, even the way the barista at his favorite café over-sugared his coffee just the way Stede made his tea. He wanted to know more, wanted to know his every thought.

One morning, Ed arrived on the balcony to find Stede already waiting, two cups of tea steaming in the cool morning air. Stede looked up from his book and smiled, warm and easy.

"You’re late," Stede said, teasing. "Your tea’s nearly cold."

Ed took the cup from him, settling against the railing. "That’s what I get for staying up working on some mind-numbingly boring remote projects."

Stede tilted his head, intrigued but careful not to pry. "Something interesting?"

Ed shrugged, taking a slow sip of tea. "Doubt it. Just the stuff that makes you question your entire existence and wonder if living in the woods might actually be preferable."

Stede chuckled. "Ah, an existential crisis before breakfast. Classic."

"It’s a talent," Ed said, smirking over the rim of his cup.

Stede studied him for a moment, his fingers idly tracing the cover of his book. "You’re very good at avoiding direct answers."

Ed smirked. "And you’re very good at asking loaded questions."

"I like to know people," Stede admitted, he looked at Ed his eyes full of something Ed was afraid to identify. "And I’d like to know you."

Ed swallowed, caught off guard by the casual sincerity in his voice. "I don’t think I’m that interesting." Stede gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further.

Ed flashed him a cheeky smile, as he sipped his tea, "And what are you reading today, then?"

Stede lifted his book. "A memoir about reinvention."

Ed huffed a laugh. "Sounds like you’re looking for something in particular."

Stede looked at him over the rim of his cup. "Aren’t we all?"

That night, Ed found himself on the rooftop again. Stede was waiting for him, reclining on a cushioned bench, looking far too elegant in one of his flowy silk gold banyan sipping brandy in the open air.

"You always drink this fancy stuff, or is this just to impress me?" Ed teased, settling beside him.

Stede smirked. "Can’t it be both?"

Ed took a sip, letting the warmth settle. "You don’t seem like someone who drinks alone."

Stede hummed, swirling the brandy in his glass. "I was almost always alone, until you. Even when I wasn't."

Ed glanced at him. "Oh?"

"I's a long story," Stede said simply, before sighing, rolling the glass between his fingers. "I thought moving here would feel like an ending to that. I was a disappointment my whole life. To my father, my job, and well...my ex-wife."

Ed turned toward him, brows furrowed. "Wasn't a long story at all, mate"

Stede’s smile was small, self-aware. "I just felt like I was treading water, waiting to drown. Now it feels like a shaking new beginning. A strange, uncertain one, but a beginning nonetheless."

Ed watched the way the lights reflected in his glass, the way his fingers traced the rim like he needed something tangible to hold onto. "Beginnings are terrifying."

Stede chuckled. "You don’t seem afraid of much."

Ed swirled the brandy in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. "You’d be surprised. Starting over means admitting what’s not working. And I’ve never been good at that."

Stede turned toward him slightly, considering. "Maybe you don’t have to figure it all out at once. Maybe you just need to take the next step."

Something in Ed tightened. The words felt too close, too knowing. He wanted to look away, but instead, he met Stede’s eyes and nodded. "Maybe."

A few days later, Ed was in his apartment, trying (and failing) to focus on writing when Izzy barged in, looking as irritated as ever.

"You need to break your damn contract," Izzy said, dropping a stack of papers onto the counter. "I told you—your fooking publisher’s full of shit. They don’t respect your work."

Ed sighed, rubbing his face. "Yeah, I know, Iz. But you also know what they’re like."

Izzy scoffed and pulled out his phone, tapping aggressively before tossing it onto the counter. "You see what they sent you this morning? The latest 'creative direction' they want?"

Ed frowned, grabbing the phone. His eyes scanned the email, and his stomach dropped. He reread it several times, the words almost blurring together. The publisher had praised his books, called them 'compelling' and 'well-written,' but then came the gut punch—'The market isn’t viable for this kind of romance.' That his next book concept is 'too broad.' The email continued on, he grew more and more pissed with each sentence. 

Ed let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Dickfuck. No, it’s not. They want me to rewrite the lead romance as 'more universally appealing'? What the hell does that even mean?"

Izzy snorted. "Means they want it hetero. Means they want you to erase what actually makes it good. They don’t want queer stories, they want sanitized, digestible bullshit.

They aren’t doing your books any justice. The first one was a wild success, but it could be better. And they’re holding you back. You have to find someone else, somewhere else."

Ed exhaled sharply, pacing toward the balcony. "It’s not that simple. I can’t just walk away without having a plan."

Izzy followed, arms crossed. "Then get a plan. Hell, find a real agent. One that actually cares about you and not just selling some market-friendly version of your work."

Ed’s fingers tapped against the railing. His mind immediately went to Stede. He wanted to tell him, to get his thoughts. But was that fair? Was that taking advantage of their friendship?

Izzy scoffed, noticing his hesitation. "You’ve been weird lately. Distracted. And don’t tell me it’s just the contract—something else is getting under your skin."

"Weird how?"

Izzy narrowed his eyes. "Like you’ve got something stuck in your head that you’re too scared to say out loud."

Ed huffed a laugh. "That’s rich, coming from you."

Izzy rolled his eyes but let it go. "Just think about it, alright? You deserve better. I can do some research, maybe I can find a lead?"

Ed nodded, but his mind was already somewhere else. Thinking about morning tea, about evenings on the rooftop. About how easy it was with Stede, and how much harder it was getting to pretend he wasn’t falling for him.

And that? That was something he wasn’t sure he could ignore much longer.

Chapter Text

Stede was having trouble concentrating. The new office space he and Lucius had rented was bright and airy, filled with natural sunlight and decorated with the tasteful flair Lucius insisted would impress their clients. Yet today, the room felt small, the walls too close, the silence too loud.

His mind kept drifting back to Ed.

It was ridiculous, he knew. Ed was his neighbor—his very charming, slightly mysterious neighbor, admittedly—but nothing more. Except, lately, Stede found himself inventing reasons to linger on the balcony, hoping for a chance encounter, or listening for footsteps heading toward the rooftop at night. He craved those quiet moments when Ed’s defenses seemed to lower, when glimpses of vulnerability slipped through the cracks of his practiced aloofness.

“Earth to Stede.” Lucius’ voice snapped him out of his reverie. He stood at the door, holding a stack of manuscripts. “Are you going to pretend to read these, or shall I just tell the authors we’ll make a decision by tarot?”

Stede chuckled, running a hand over his face. “Sorry, Lu. Got distracted.”

Lucius smirked knowingly as he set the manuscripts down. “Distracted or daydreaming? There's a difference, and you've been drifting into dreamland an awful lot lately.”

Stede sighed. “It’s… complicated.”

Lucius folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Complicated? That's practically my specialty. Come on, spill. What’s got you this twisted?”

Stede hesitated, the truth hovering on the tip of his tongue. But how could he explain that his seemingly simple friendship with Ed had suddenly become the most complicated thing in his life?

He opened his mouth to speak, just as his phone buzzed loudly, startling him. The screen lit up with Ed’s name, and Stede’s pulse quickened.

Lucius glanced down at the phone, his grin widening. “Oh, honey, ‘complicated’ doesn't even begin to cover this, does it?”

Stede gave Lucius a pointed look as he picked up the phone. “Don’t you have some manuscripts to judge harshly?”

Lucius raised his hands in surrender, stepping back towards the door. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you privacy to talk to your mysterious balcony Romeo.”

Rolling his eyes affectionately, Stede answered the phone. “Ed, hello.”

Ed’s voice was hesitant, almost cautious. “Hey, uh, am I interrupting anything important?”

Stede smiled softly, sinking back into his chair. “No, just contemplating the many ways manuscripts can disappoint Lucius today. What’s up?”

A pause stretched over the line, making Stede wonder if he'd accidentally stumbled into sensitive territory. Finally, Ed sighed heavily. “Rough day. Thought maybe you could spare an hour tonight? Up on your rooftop?”

Stede’s heart did a small flip. He tried to keep his tone casual. “Of course. I can spare all the hours for you, Ed. You know where to find me.”

Another pause, shorter this time, followed by Ed’s warm, slightly relieved laugh. “I do, don’t I? Alright, then. I'll see you later.”

After Ed hung up, Stede stared at his phone a moment longer, the warmth of anticipation spreading through him. He set it down carefully, exhaling slowly to gather his composure.

Lucius poked his head back into the office, his expression smug. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Oh, come on, Stede! You’re practically glowing. It’s disgustingly adorable. Are we still pretending you’re not madly infatuated with your gorgeous, mysterious neighbor?”

Stede groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “It’s... delicate. We have a good thing going, Lucius. I don’t want to risk ruining it.”

Lucius stepped closer, his voice gentler now. “Look, Stede, I get it. But you know what’s worse than risking something wonderful?”

Stede looked up questioningly.

“Never taking the chance at all,” Lucius said earnestly. “Trust me, regret is a heavier burden than rejection.”

Stede sighed, nodding slowly. “When did you become so wise?”

Lucius smiled, patting his shoulder affectionately. “I’ve always been wise. You just rarely listen.”

Stede chuckled softly. “Point taken. Now, can we get back to work? I’ve got an important evening to prepare for.”

Lucius stepped back dramatically, sweeping toward the door. “Say no more. Manuscripts await—and your destiny, apparently, awaits on the rooftop.”

The evening air was cool and inviting, and Stede stood quietly on his rooftop, adjusting the cushions on the outdoor furniture more times than necessary. Anticipation fluttered in his chest, mixed with a subtle unease. Ed had seemed unusually tense earlier, and Stede found himself worrying about what had caused the shift.

The door creaked open behind him, and he turned to see Ed stepping out, shoulders hunched and eyes shadowed with fatigue. He mustered a small smile. "Hey."

"Hey," Ed murmured, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. He hesitated in the doorway, visibly uncertain.

"Come on out" Stede said gently taking a seat on the outdoor sofa, gesturing to the spot beside him. "I've got brandy and everything."

Ed smiled, some of the tension easing from his expression as he took a seat beside Stede. For a long moment, they sat in comfortable silence, sipping their brandy and gazing at the city lights below.

Finally, Ed took a deep breath, placing his glass down carefully. "Stede, there's... something I've been keeping from you."

Stede looked at him, concerned but patient. "Alright. What is it?"

Ed's fingers tightened around his glass, his gaze fixed firmly on the cityscape. "It’s not that I’ve been scared exactly. I just didn’t want you to feel I was taking advantage of—of us. Of our friendship."

Stede watched him closely, his heart rate quickening. "Ed, I don't think you're capable of taking advantage. But please, tell me what's bothering you."

Ed took a deep breath and finally met Stede’s eyes. "I’m a writer. Well, m'actually a published author. I write under a pseudonym—Blackbeard."

Stede’s eyes widened slightly, recognition dawning. "Blackbeard? The writer? I've heard of you—your work is remarkable. Lucius loves your books!"

Ed’s lips twitched into a small smile. "Yeah? I mean, that’s—that’s great. But my publisher... they’re trying to change everything. They don’t like that my stories have queer leads, or that they're not... traditional. They've been pushing me to rewrite them, make everything more 'universally appealing.'" His voice grew tight with frustration. "It feels like they're asking me to erase myself."

Stede reached out instinctively, resting his hand lightly over Ed's. "That's awful. No one should make you compromise who you are."

Ed swallowed thickly, looking down at their joined hands. "Izzy says I need to get out, find someone better. But I don’t even know where to start. It’s all a mess. And I—I thought maybe you could help. I trust you, Stede. But look, you can absolutely tell me to fuck off if you want. I just need someone to talk to. Someone who understands the industry."

Stede squeezed Ed’s hand gently, warmth spreading through his chest at Ed’s vulnerability. "Ed, I’m honored you’d trust me with this. You don't ever have to worry about taking advantage. I'm here—whatever you need."

Ed finally lifted his gaze, vulnerability etched clearly in his eyes. "I don’t know what I need, exactly. Advice, maybe. Or reassurance that I’m not about to ruin my career?"

Stede smiled softly, eyes shining with sincerity. "You’re not alone in this. We'll figure it out together, alright?"

Ed exhaled slowly, visibly relieved. He nodded, voice quiet and grateful. "Together, then."

Chapter Text

The morning sun was unusually bright, pouring golden warmth across the balcony as Ed and Stede sat sipping their tea in comfortable silence. Nearly a week had passed since their rooftop conversation, and the weight of their shared truths still lingered, though it felt less intimidating now.

Ed cleared his throat, finally breaking the silence. "I've been thinking a lot about everything we discussed. About moving forward, breaking my contract, and finding a new path."

Stede tilted his head, studying Ed with an encouraging expression. "That’s wonderful. Truly, you deserve someone who actually supports your vision and doesn’t just see you as a marketing opportunity."

Ed huffed a small laugh, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well. It’s a massive step. And I’m not sure where to start. Would you—" He hesitated, shifting his cup between his hands. "Would you consider consulting with me? Just to help get things moving? I trust you, and I think you’d be a good person to have in my corner."

Stede’s lips quirked up. "I’d be honored."

Ed let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. "Izzy wants to bring in an attorney. He’s been my unofficial manager-slash-bodyguard-slash-professional nag. He thinks we should go over the contract as soon as possible. I’d really like you to meet him."

Stede nodded, setting his cup down with quiet finality. "Then let’s do it. I’ll have Lucius put something on the books."

Ed relaxed into his chair, tapping out a quick message to Izzy. "Thank you, Stede. Really. I will send you his email address later."

Stede’s smile softened. "Anything for you, Ed."

They lingered there, the unspoken weight of trust settling comfortably between them, the quiet understanding growing between them like something solid, something real.

Their first official meeting took place in the office, a bright, inviting space Lucius had clearly put his stamp on—tasteful yet dramatic, with lush furniture and an obnoxiously large gold-framed mirror leaning against the wall.

Izzy barely stepped through the door before Lucius zeroed in, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Well, hello there. You must be Izzy. Have you ever been sketched? Because I think I just found my new muse."

Izzy froze like he'd been struck by lightning, then scowled a fierce blush overtaking his cheeks. "What the fuck."

Lucius grinned like a cat who had just found an unattended fish. "Oh, I like you already."

Stede rubbed his temples. "Lucius, can we get through at least ten minutes of business before you start making artistic threats?"

Lucius held up his hands. "Fine, fine. But you can’t blame an artist for being inspired."

Izzy, still pink around the ears, muttered something under his breath before dropping into a chair with an exaggerated huff. "Let’s just get this over with."

Stede cleared his throat, expertly steering them back to the matter at hand. "Alright, Israel. Tell me what we’re working with."

Izzy yanked a thick folder from his bag and all but slammed it onto the table. "It’s restrictive as hell. Full exclusivity, first refusal on the next book, and the publisher has been making... suggestions."

He shot a look at Ed before continuing. "They want him to rewrite key relationships to be 'more accessible' to a wider audience."

Stede’s expression darkened as he skimmed the contract. "Ah. So, corporate speak for 'make it straight.'"

"Bingo," Ed muttered. "They keep saying it's about market trends, but really, they just don’t want to fully back a queer writer anymore unless they can sand the edges down."

Lucius let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest. "Oh no! Not the horrors of diversity! Whatever shall the fragile market do?"

Izzy pinched the bridge of his nose. "I fucking hate publishers, no offence."

Stede hummed thoughtfully, "Ah, none taken, "flipping a few more pages. "This is... bad, but not airtight. There’s wiggle room. We’ll need to get an attorney to review the exclusivity clause. If they’ve been altering their promises verbally, there’s a case for breach of contract."

Ed’s jaw tightened. "I want out. And I want a publisher that actually gives a shit."

Stede smiled warmly. "Then that’s what we’ll find. We’ll build a strategy and start looking at publishers that align with your voice, not just the sales department’s idea of what’s profitable."

Lucius clicked his pen against his notepad. "Speaking of which, what’s the next book looking like?"

Ed hesitated, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "I have some ideas. A few directions I could go in."

Izzy crossed his arms. "We need solid timelines. No vague shit. If we’re doing this, we need deadlines."

Lucius grinned. "Timelines are my second favorite thing. My first, of course, being flirting with emotionally unavailable men."

Izzy narrowed his eyes at him, his face slightly red. "Are you done?"

Lucius smirked. "Not even close."

Ed groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I regret everything."

Stede chuckled, looking between them all with a glint of amusement. "This is excellent progress. We’ll review the contract with legal, work on refining your pitches, and I’ll compile a list of potential publishers. Sound good?"

Izzy grunted, clearly still processing whatever just happened with Lucius. "Fine. But no sketching."

Lucius winked. "No promises."

Soft laughter rippled around the table. Despite everything, Ed felt lighter than he had in months. It wasn’t just a plan. It was momentum.

Chapter Text

Ed hadn’t meant to fall into a rhythm with Stede, but once things got rolling, it felt natural. Comfortable. Dangerous. They were still in the thick of trying to get him out of his contract, navigating fine print and loopholes with help from legal contacts Stede had brought in.

But in the meantime, Stede encouraged himgently, persistently—to keep writing. To keep building the next book, exactly the way he wanted to write it. No compromise, no sanding the edges down.

They started working together more regularly—long strategy calls, feedback sessions, even coffee shop meetups where Stede would pull out his annotated notes and Ed would pretend not to be charmed by the colorcoded tabs.

Stede had a flair for structure, an eye for story arcs, and a tendency to leave pastry crumbs on every editorial page. Ed found it infuriating. And, increasingly, endearing. Hopelessly endearing. 

What amazed Ed most was how well they worked together. Seamless, really. It scared him a little, how easy it felt. And if he was honest, there was a part of him that just wanted to hand over the book to Stede entirely. Let him publish it. Represent him.

Even beyond that, just being with Stede felt right. He loved..nope, not going down that rabbit hole. He was fond of his golden ray of sunshine best friend. Yeah, best friend. But that felt... risky. Too close. He didn’t want to take advantage. Not of the friendship, and not of Stede.

"You really brought a highlighter for each character arc?" Ed asked one afternoon, staring in disbelief at the pile of pastel markers spread across the table.

Stede looked up from his notebook, utterly unbothered. "Of course. It's much easier to track emotional beats when you color-code. Blue is for regret. Green is for growth."

"And pink?" Ed asked, already dreading the answer.

Stede smiled softly. "Love."

Ed coughed, looking away quickly. "Right. Of course."

They worked in silence for a few minutes, the occasional sound of Stede’s pen scribbling notes and Ed’s not-so-silent chewing filling the space. Eventually, Stede reached across and brushed a few pastry crumbs off Ed’s page.

"You know, if you’re going to eat like that, I may have to institute a crumb tax," Stede teased, brushing his fingers theatrically across the paper.

Ed looked up, crumbs on his lip and one eyebrow arched. "You? You're the bigger offender. I saw you demolish that almond croissant like it owed you money—and you left a trail of flaky evidence behind you. If we’re talking crumb tax, your bill is criminal."

Stede blinked innocently. "I’m dainty. I nibble."

Ed snorted. "You inhale."

"One editorial note per crumb," Stede repeated, smug.

Ed leaned in slightly, flashing him a slow grin. "Fine. But I’m charging you per dramatic flourish in your margin notes."

"That's extortion."

"That's justice."

Stede laughed, eyes crinkling. "Alright, then. Mutual blackmail. Perfect foundation for collaboration."

"Or war," Ed muttered with mock gravity, reaching for another croissant.

"Ah, but a literary war," Stede said, raising his cup in salute. "The best kind."

Back at the office, the dynamic shifted. Izzy and Stede had taken to butting heads like it was their day job. There wasn’t a meeting that didn’t involve raised eyebrows and passive-aggressive quips.

"You want a launch timeline that tight?" Izzy scoffed one morning, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. "What, you planning to clone him to get the next draft done in time?"

Stede didn’t flinch. "With the right focus, it’s perfectly doable."

"You’re not the one doing the damn writing."

"And yet, somehow, I still understand deadlines better than you."

Lucius, who was sitting in the corner pretending to work, chimed in without looking up. "This is the closest thing to flirting I’ve seen outside of a gay bar at closing time."

"Lucius," Ed warned, but Lucius just sipped his coffee innocently.

Izzy turned a deep shade of pink and grunted, retreating with a muttered, "I need aspirin."

Stede smiled, smug. "He really is quite dramatic."

"Says the man who brings artisanal tea to staff meetings," Ed replied, grinning.

Later that week, Ed stayed late to finish a few scene rewrites in the shared office. He wasn’t surprised to find Lucius and Izzy still there. Lucius reclining with a sketchpad and Izzy glaring at him from the other side of the room.

"Hold still, would you?" Lucius asked, tapping the page with his pencil.

"I'm not posing for your weird little fanart."

"It’s a figure study."

"It’s creepy."

Lucius leaned forward, eyes glinting. "Then stop being so interesting to draw."

Izzy didn’t answer. But he didn’t leave either.

Ed shook his head and looked back at his laptop. If they weren’t already sleeping together, he gave it two weeks. Maybe three.

A few minutes later, Stede appeared with two cups of tea and handed one to Ed without a word.

"You’ve been watching them, haven’t you?" he asked quietly.

Ed glanced over again. Lucius had somehow migrated to sit next to Izzy, their shoulders almost touching.

"Hard not to," Ed muttered.

Stede sipped his tea, looking far too pleased. "I give it ten days."

Ed raised an eyebrow. "You’re on."

They clinked cups, like the petty little matchmakers they absolutely were, despite their complete obliviousness to their own attraction.

Chapter Text

The legal counsel Stede had connected Izzy with came through, sort of. They found a loophole in Ed’s contract that could potentially release him from the stranglehold of his publisher, but it wasn’t going to be easy.

If it didn’t go smoothly, Ed could lose the rights to his already-published books. Worse, he might be barred from ever revisiting the characters or continuing the story that had made him who he was.

It was a lot. But Ed had made up his mind. He needed to be true to himself.

As Izzy and the legal team worked through the risks and logistics, Stede arranged a few quiet meetings with colleagues—people he trusted, agents, publishers, folks he hoped might be a good match for Ed’s future. Ed met with a few of them. He tried. But nothing clicked.

There was always something. Too corporate, too pushy, too dismissive of his genre, or just straight-up vibes that were off. After a string of awkward meetings and polite refusals, Ed found himself spiraling. He didn’t want to settle. That’s what got him in trouble the first time.

Izzy wasn’t subtle about it.

"You’ve got a choice, Ed," he’d said after the last meeting. "You either keep chasing perfect and stall out, or you compromise and move."

"I don’t want to compromise," Ed snapped. "Not again."

"Then stop sulking and write the damn book."

Ed had walked out after that.

Which is probably why, when he didn’t show up for their usual morning balcony tea, Stede started to worry.

Still in his silk pajamas and banyan, Stede stepped out onto the balcony. Ed’s apartment was unusually still. Curtains drawn. Lights off. But there was movement, something just past the glass. He frowned.

He knocked gently on the balcony door. A pause. Then a muffled, "Come in."

Inside, the living room was mostly dark. A warm, oddly cozy gloom. The couch had been moved. Cushions rearranged. Blankets draped from chairs and tables. A makeshift fort occupied the center of the room, its entrance blocked by a single large blue pillow.

Stede crouched, examining the odd structure. "Ed? I missed you this morning. What’s going on?"

A long, weary sigh came from inside. Ed’s voice was thick. "Blue pillow is the door."

Stede blinked. "Oh. Right."

He gently moved the pillow aside and peered in. Ed was curled up inside, wrapped in a familiar fuchsia banyan covered in birds of paradise. The one Stede had given him weeks ago as a welcome gift.

His hair was tousled, face blotchy and eyes rimmed in red. He looked exhausted.

"Oh, Ed my dear. Do you want me to come in?"

Ed looked up and gave the faintest of nods. It was all the invitation Stede needed.

He adjusted his own banyan and crawled inside, careful not to collapse the walls of the fort. It was surprisingly warm. Soft pillows, string lights twinkling faintly, a half-empty cup of tea abandoned near a corner. As he settled in beside Ed, Stede’s hand moved almost without thinking, brushing Ed’s hair back from his eyes and tucking the strand behind his ear.

Ed gasped softly, blinking rapidly. He sucked in a shaky breath.

Stede recoiled, realizing the intimacy of the gesture. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep."

But Ed reached up and gently touched his wrist before Stede could retract his hand fully.

"It’s nice. Don’t mind."

They sat like that for a few moments, the quiet thick between them. Ed let go, and Stede lowered his hand slowly, his chest tight with concern. He rested it beside Ed's, their pinkies now touching. It felt warm, almost intimate. 

"Why are you so sad?" Stede asked, barely above a whisper.

Ed exhaled, long and slow. "I’m just... tired. Everyone keeps saying they want to help, but none of them get it. Not really. Every agent I met with just looked at me like I was a product. Every publisher asked about marketability before asking about my story. They keep trying to make me smaller, cleaner, easier to explain."

Stede listened, his brow furrowing.

"Izzy means well, but he doesn’t get it either. He wants me to push through, make a call, get it done. But I can’t just pick someone. I’m not doing this again. I’m not giving my voice away."

There was a pause. Ed’s fingers toyed with the edge of Stede’s sleeve, rubbing the silk between his thumb and forefinger. Stede felt his heart skip.

"The only thing keeping me grounded," Ed said softly, "is you. Working with you. Being around you. That’s the only part that feels good. Makes me...feel good."

They were lying close now. Stede could feel the heat radiating off Ed’s body. His breath. The slow, nervous energy between them. He stared at Ed's lips, mesmerized.

And then, before he could stop himself—

"What if I became your publisher?"

Ed’s head snapped up. "What?"

Stede flushed. "You said it yourself. We work well together. We already have the foundation. We specialize in queer voices. We know your work. We know you. I know...you."

Ed looked stunned. He felt himself stiffen, searching Stede’s face for any sign of hesitation.

"Are you serious?"

Stede smiled, soft and sure. "I am. I’ve been thinking about it, honestly. I think we’d be brilliant together. We are, rather, brilliant together. You are my best friend. Kind of my everything lately."

Ed’s expression slowly shifted, from shock to something gentler. He bit his lip, and Stede’s eyes flicked down, utterly transfixed. That lip. The way he did that.

"If you’re sure, mate," Ed said quietly. "I think... I think I’d love that."

"Great!" Stede blurted, voice a little louder than intended.

Ed laughed, the first real laugh in days, and the sound made something warm bloom in Stede’s chest.

They settled into the pillows again, now both laying on their backs staring at the twinkling lights. Close. Quiet. Comfortable.

Stede glanced sideways at Ed’s smile, at the soft curve of it, and was hit by the overwhelming, terrible need to kiss him.

Which was a problem.

Because surely Ed didn’t feel the same.

Right?

Chapter Text

The legal team was ready. The paperwork was drafted. The loophole identified. It was time to move forward and officially break Ed’s contract.

One problem.

Nigel Badminton.

Stede had spent years trying to forget that name, but fate wasn’t interested in kindness. Unbeknownst to Stede, until the legal documents hit the desk, Nigel was now affiliated with the publishing house that owned the rights to Ed’s existing books.

And now he wanted a meeting.

Nigel arrived unannounced, flanked by two of his equally unbearable associates, Wellington and Hornberry. They wore smugness like tailored suits, breezing into the office like they owned it. Nigel, with his long, perfectly groomed blond hair and bespoke navy suit, looked like money and malice incarnate.

Lucius glanced up from his desk and immediately narrowed his eyes. "Stede? There’s a weasel here to see you. Two more following behind."

Stede stepped out into the lobby, already bracing himself. "Nigel."

"Stede!" Nigel spread his arms wide with theatrical flair and swept Stede into a tight embrace before he could even react. It lingered just long enough to feel deliberate. As he pulled back, he went in for a kiss on both cheeks. Stede winced.

"Oh, we’ve grown into such a fine man. Still with those soft cheeks." Nigel chuckled, adjusting his lapels. "We were rowdy school chums, weren’t we? Always playing pranks on each other."

"Mm," Stede replied, already regretting everything.

Nigel looked around the room, making loud and pointed comments. "How charming! Such a quaint little space. And who’s this?"

"Lucius Spriggs," Lucius said, eyeing him like he might need to call pest control. "I work here."

"Wonderful! I do love a staff who looks like they belong in a painting." Nigel turned back to Stede. "Tell me, do you remember the rowboat?"

Stede’s face twitched. "The rowboat? I’m not sure if I—"

"Oh come now. The rowboat! It was hysterical!" Nigel clapped his hands with glee.

Lucius arched an eyebrow. "Did he say rowboat?"

"Don’t encourage him," Stede muttered.

Nigel waved a hand, as though brushing away Stede’s hesitation. "You remember! You were tied to the oars. Everyone throwing pebbles at you. It was all in good fun. A rite of passage."

Stede folded his arms, his tone sharp. "Funny. I don’t remember it happening to anyone else."

"Well, of course not," Nigel said, eyes twinkling. "You were special. You were always so... special. My goodness, you were also so round and plump."

Stede blinked. "I wasn’t—"

"Oh, but you were!" Nigel cut in with a delighted laugh. "An adorable little porkster. You had these pudgy hands and your cheeks were like apples. I could’ve eaten you up."

Stede winced, mortified. "That’s... not how I remember it. I thought I was rather slim."

"Ah, memory is such a fickle thing," Nigel replied breezily. "And then there was the horse—you must remember the horse."

"Yes, Nigel," Stede said flatly. "Who could forget the horse."

Behind him, Lucius muttered, "I’m starting to feel like I need to report this entire conversation to HR, if we had one."

Wellington and Hornberry chuckled smugly behind him.

Nigel clapped his hands again, pivoting theatrically. "So! This delightful little agency. Do you keep the rest of it this charming?"

Stede stared at him, unimpressed. "Would you like a tour?"

"Yes! I would!" Nigel replied, sing-song, clapping like a child at a birthday party.

"We really should be getting back," Wellington started, already sounding bored.

"Oh do hush, Wellington. Don’t be such a bore. A few minutes more won’t kill us."

Lucius muttered, "I might kill me if this continues."

Nigel ignored him and linked his arm through Stede’s with a smile just shy of predatory. "Lead the way, dear Stede. I’m positively aching to see where the magic happens."

Stede led them down the hallway, giving clipped explanations of rooms they passed. Nigel commented on every detail, from the paint color to the flower arrangement on the conference table.

"So cozy," he said. "Like a little dollhouse. Must be nice not to deal with shareholders breathing down your neck. Though... there’s a certain thrill in power, isn’t there?"

Stede didn't answer.

When they reached his office, Nigel walked in as if it belonged to him. He ran his hand along the back of the couch, examined the bookshelves.

"So this is where you spend your days," he mused. "What a transformation. Baby Bonnet, grown up and running a little queer press in the city. I’ve always admired your flair for the dramatic."

Stede was silent.

Nigel sat down on the edge of the sofa, crossing his legs like a man perfectly at home. "And now, the rumor mill. I’ve heard quite the tale. You left Mary. Quit the Bonnet firm. Turned tail on Daddy’s empire. And now... you’re gay."

"Yes," Stede said plainly. "All true."

Nigel grinned, eyes gleaming. "Delicious."

He stood slowly, walking toward Stede. "I always knew you were different. Back then, I couldn’t name it. But I knew. And now here we are. Fate giving us a second chance."

He hovered close. Too close. He ran a thumb across Stede's jawline which almost caused him to vomit. He shivered, which sparked a glint of amusement in Nigel's eyes.  

"Let me take you out. Just us. One night. You need someone who sees you. Who remembers. Who understands."

Stede took a step back. "Nigel—"

"Don’t say no," Nigel said softly. "Not yet. Think about it. About me. About what we could be."

Lucius appeared in the doorway. "Stede. You’ve got that call. Now. Definitely urgent."

Stede didn’t look away from Nigel. "Thank you, Lucius."

Nigel stepped back, smoothing his jacket. "Until next time, then."

As they left, Hornberry muttered something about the air being too fragrant.

Lucius shut the door behind them. "Sage. You need sage."

Stede exhaled. "And maybe an exorcism."

Later that evening, Lucius talked Stede into going out for drinks. It took effort.

"Just one," Lucius had pleaded. "You need a disinfectant. And I don’t mean Lysol, though frankly I wouldn’t judge."

Stede had reluctantly agreed, though all he truly wanted was to go home, scrub his skin raw, and pretend the day had never happened. But Lucius had that way about him. The same way he got Ed to try oat milk or convinced Izzy to attend a queer poetry reading without threatening bodily harm.

They ended up at a cozy little bar tucked behind a bookstore in the East Village. Dim lights, mismatched furniture, and a bartender with a septum ring and excellent whiskey taste.

Stede swirled his drink, eyes distant. "He hasn’t changed. Not one bit."

Lucius snorted. "Nope. That man was grown in a vat of inherited ego and sexual repression. I thought Chauncey was bad. He still is, don't get me wrong."

"I used to think they were just mean," Stede murmured. "Him and Chauncey. Just... awful boys with too much power. But now—"

"Now it’s obvious Nigel’s closet has a chandelier and a minibar," Lucius finished.

Stede laughed, though it sounded tired. "They were always the loudest about women. About conquests. I’m fairly certain I saw Nigel at a black tie dinner last year with a woman who looked like a Vogue model."

"Escort," Lucius said flatly. "Guaranteed. She probably charged extra for having to touch his elbow."

They laughed again, softer this time.

Stede went quiet for a while, fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "He didn’t say a word about Ed. Not a thing."

Lucius watched him closely. "But you think..."

"I think he’s waiting. For leverage. I think if I say no, he’ll make this whole process hell for Ed. He hasn’t even started and I already know. I feel it."

Lucius nodded slowly. "Then we make it not matter. We lawyer up, double down, and keep Ed protected. And if Nigel pushes... we push back. Harder."

Stede looked at him, grateful and just a little overwhelmed. "Thank you."

Lucius raised his glass. "To Exorcisms and Exit Strategies."

Stede clinked his against it, but his mind was already somewhere else.

Maybe... maybe the easiest path forward was just saying yes. One dinner couldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like he was dating anyone. It wasn’t like he had... claimed anyone.

He thought of Ed. Thought of the softness of his voice when he got excited about a scene, the way he bit his lip when he was thinking. The way Stede always knew when he was about to say something clever.

Stede sighed. "I don't want to tell Ed about today. Just... he has so much going on already. We don't even know if this will affect him."

Lucius pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. He just nodded once, letting the thought settle between them like dust on the rim of a glass.

Chapter Text

Stede broke down after days of relentless calls and voicemails from Nigel. Somehow, the man had gotten Stede's mobile number. He should have blocked him. Should have told him to sod off. But one particular voicemail kept replaying in his mind, poisoning every quiet moment.

"Hello, my darling Stede," Nigel's voice oozed from the speaker. "You are being very difficult to pin down. I would hate for our professional dealings to become... complicated. Surely you can spare a little time for an old friend. Dinner. Just one. I insist."

The words sank sharp like a stone.

It made his skin crawl.

He hated this. Hated that he felt like he couldn't tell Ed. Hated even more the way Nigel still made him feel cornered and powerless. But this was for Ed. For Ed's future. Stede felt very fond of Ed. He avoided putting a heavier word to it, though it lurked unspoken in the back of his mind.

He agreed to dinner. A single, miserable dinner.

Ed tried to focus on his book. Tried to lose himself in plotting scenes and writing dialogue. Every time he got to a romantic moment, every time his main characters looked at each other a second too long or brushed hands in passing, he thought of Stede. His smile. His laugh. The way he bit his lip when he was thinking.

It only got worse. Ed caught himself swapping his hero's face for Stede's without meaning to as he was writing the steamier scenes. He would drift off into daydreams about how Stede's lips would taste.

His mind betrayed him further, conjuring scenes that were far too vivid: Stede pressed back against a wall, his cheeks flushed, breath hitching when Ed leaned in. Stede's hand fisting the front of Ed's shirt, pulling him closer, asking without words. The kiss in his mind was slow and sweet, then desperate, needy, the kind of kiss that unraveled both of them completely. The feeling of Stede grinding against him, his hard...

Ed's fingers froze on the keyboard. His heart thudded in his ears, the fantasy too intense to shake off. His throat was dry. His whole body ached with how much he wanted it to be real.

He muttered, "Get a grip," shoving his chair back from the desk. Pacing the room, shaking his head. Trying to banish the ghost of Stede’s imagined kiss from his mind.

It never worked. It didn't help that he felt like something had changed between them. Not for the good. 

Ed noticed it first in the little things. Stede was... off.

They were still waiting on the finalization of getting Ed's contract ended, hovering in an exhausting limbo. Usually, he and Stede spent the evening together like clockwork—tea, books, rooftop talks, brandy and soft laughter under the stars. But lately, Stede had been pulling away.

Odd excuses. Sudden work emergencies. Plans that "slipped his mind."

Ed tried not to take it personally, it had only been over the span of a week. Really, he did. He even asked Lucius about it one afternoon when they crossed paths at the office.

Lucius had just given a vague shrug. "We’ve got a lot going on. Final prep for the agency official launch, a full release schedule of new works by several clients...oh, and the new team’s arriving soon. It’s chaos."

Ed had nodded. He understood. He really did. Stede’s team was like family to him, a found family stitched together from people who saw him and stayed. It made sense Stede would want to give them everything he could.

Still, Ed missed him.

One morning, standing out on the shared balcony, the city stretching out gold and blue around them, Ed decided he couldn’t let it sit any longer.

He leaned on the railing, mug cradled between his palms. "Stede," he said casually, "everything alright?"

Stede sighed, setting his tea down on the little table between them. "I'm just… busy. The timeline for the book releases, getting the team here… It's a lot."

"Busy's one thing," Ed said softly. "But you’ve been... somewhere else lately."

Stede opened his mouth, then shut it again. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve.

Ed watched him for a long moment, then set his own cup down. He crossed the balcony then without a word, grabbed Stede’s hands and tugged him up from his chair.

Stede blinked at him, startled. Ed didn’t say anything. He just gave him a look, a look that said, "Cut the bullshit, mate. It's me."

Stede’s shoulders sagged, but he nodded, still avoiding Ed's eyes. He stood awkwardly until Ed pulled him into a tight hug.

At first, Stede was stiff, body locked up like he was afraid to move. But then, slowly, he melted. His hands gripped the back of Ed’s shirt, his head tucked into the crook of Ed's neck, breathing him in.
Ed couldn't help doing the same as he held him closer. Stede smelled like lavender, bergamot, and something uniquely Stede. So warm, soft, and slightly sweet, the kind of scent that lingered and stayed with Ed long after they parted. It made his chest ache in ways he did not dare name.

"I'm sorry," Stede whispered, voice rough. "I'm sorry for being… off. Being weird. I know I am too much. I didn't want to worry you."

"You not being your usual cute, adorable weird does worry me," Ed said lightly, trying to make him smile. "You’re usually just the right amount of weird. Never even close to too much."

A soft laugh broke out of Stede, muffled against Ed's neck.

"I didn’t want to burden you," Stede murmured.

"Hey," Ed pulled back slightly, enough to cup Stede's cheek gently. "You're not a burden. You're..."

He trailed off, heart pounding. Stede’s eyes were shining, open and vulnerable. Ed couldn't go where his mind wanted. He couldn't lose this.

"You are my best friend," Ed finished.

Tears welled in Stede’s eyes. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. His voice wobbled as he said, "You are mine, too."

They stood there, framed by the soft morning light, the city humming quietly around them.

"You don’t have to handle everything by yourself, you know," Ed said. "Whatever it is. Work stuff. Personal stuff. Dumb stuff. I'm here."

Stede nodded, voice breaking a little. "I know. I’m just not used to… having someone like you."

Ed squeezed his hands. "Well, get used to it. I’m not going anywhere."

Stede smiled at him, something fragile and bright. "Good. Because I’d be utterly lost without you."

Chapter Text

Stede was trying harder not to avoid Ed. Really, he was. But he still couldn’t bring himself to tell him about Nigel. About the messages. The voicemail. The threat.

He got dressed in his office. The auxiliary wardrobe was convenient, especially on nights like this. It was a whole different vibe than the wardrobe at home—less summer linen and autumn vibe, more polished urban charm. Charcoal suit jacket, crisp shirt, perfectly pressed trousers, and a pair of shoes far too nice for the venue Nigel had chosen.

He walked out to the front desk where Lucius was still seated, grumbling under his breath. The Swede was due to start Monday, finally freeing Lucius from his front desk duties.

Lucius sat at the reception desk, glaring at him. "You’re really doing this."

"I am," Stede said, buttoning his cuffs with too much precision.

"You’re going out with him. The man who bullied you and even bellittled you in this very office."

"Lucius, it’s for the best. If it gets Ed away from that publisher, if it makes Nigel back off... then it’s worth it."

Lucius didn’t answer, but the look on his face said everything.

Stede checked his phone. Nigel had texted him the address to some overly pretentious gastro pub fusion oyster bar monstrosity. It screamed "I have money and bad taste" and Stede had never planned to step foot inside.

He ordered an Uber, sighing. That was when he saw the message from Ed:

Was wondering if you were free tonight. Heard of a new place I want to try with you.

Stede stared at it. His stomach twisted. He would have loved to end his day with Ed. He loved ending his days with Ed.

He bit his lip and decided to wait to reply. Maybe he could text later with something like, Just saw this. Would have loved to but had plans. How about our usual in the morning?

He hated lying to Ed. But this... this was for Ed. He would suffer through Nigel for a few hours and then go home. Pretend it never happened.

"Have a good night," Stede said, trying to sound casual. "Text you if I need an out."

His phone rang. Reflexively, he answered. "Hello?"

"Hey mate, hope m'not catching you at a busy time."

Shit. Ed.

Stede turned away, forcing a smile into his voice. "Just got your text. Everything alright?"

Lucius was watching him closely now.

"Yeah, uh, m'needing to make a reservation for the place apparently. There's an opening I want to snag for us in a couple hours if you're free."

Stede's heart dropped. He could hear the hope in Ed's voice. The eagerness. It wasn't just dinner. It meant something.

"I'm sorry, Ed. I would love to. But I have a d-" he almost said date, why couldn't he just be calm about this, "plans. Maybe tomorrow?"

Lucius had appeared beside him, brows raised mouthing, "Is that Ed?"

Stede glared. Ed’s voice, on the line, suddenly sounded small. "No worries. I’ll... see you later then."

Stede felt ill.

The dinner was worse than expected. Nigel was as smug as ever, making comments that hovered between homophobic and lewd. The restaurant was obnoxiously loud, the food ridiculous, and the wine list read like it was curated by someone who hated joy and humanity.

"I always knew there was something about you," Nigel said, swirling his drink lazily. "Always that little glint in your eye. The way you tried to keep your chin up, even when you were ten seconds from crying. Adorable. And now here we are, grown men, no longer little schoolboys, and the timing is perfect. You and me, it’s fate. I am so looking forward to see how our little relationship blooms."

Stede blinked slowly, giving Nigel a look that tried and failed to disguise his discomfort. "I agreed to one dinner. I’m not interested in dating anyone."

Nigel leaned in slightly, undeterred his smile was shark-like with a glint of lust in his eyes.

"Don’t be so modest. You on my arm? Perfect. You want stability, don’t you? Someone to handle the mess. I know how exhausting it is to run things. Respect. A path back to your father's good graces. All of high society loves a redemption arc."

He gave a tight, oily smile. "You be the quiet one. I handle everything else. Appearances. Optics. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Except when I ask you to. Not to mention, how perfect we would be in the bedroom."

He leaned closer, his voice low and greasy. "You’ve always been soft. I bet you’d melt in the right hands. My hands. I could make you feel things no one else has. And you? You’d look so good beneath me, Stede. All pink and wrecked and mine."

Stede went cold.

His stomach twisted violently and a wave of nausea crept up his throat. His body stiffened as if rejecting the air itself. Nigel’s voice, slick and smug, felt like grease on his skin.

"You want to own me," Stede said, his voice tight. "Not date me. You want something to parade around and use when it suits you. A trophy. A pet. Something to keep in your pocket and pull out when the optics demand it."

Nigel only smiled, slow and satisfied like a cat playing with a dying bird.

Stede pushed back from the table with controlled fury. "Thank you for dinner. But no."

Stede stepped outside briskly, putting several feet between himself and the restaurant's door. Nigel emerged behind him moments later, adjusting his coat with far too much flair.

"I'll walk you to the curb," he said, tone smooth as always.

Stede turned on his heel. "That won't be necessary. I can walk myself."

Nigel dismissed the protest with a wave. "Don't be silly. It's just a few steps."

"Nigel," Stede said, firmer now, "I said no. I'm leaving alone."

Nigel didn’t listen. He took a step closer, brushing invisible lint off Stede's shoulder.

"You’re always so proper," he said, low. "It’s endearing."

Stede took a step back, his jaw tight. "I’m not interested. I made that clear."

Nigel’s expression hardened. "Oh, you do tickle me so, Baby Bonnet. You keep saying that, but your actions say otherwise."

Stede’s brows shot up, disgust rising again just as Nigel reached for his arm. But Nigel was suddenly close. His hand touched Stede's arm, then slid down. He leaned in, mouth brushing Stede’s.

Stede recoiled, trying to push him off—

A cough sounded behind them.

Stede froze. Izzy stood a few feet away, arms crossed, looking equal parts annoyed, enraged, and disgusted.

"Do fuck off," Nigel sneered. "Mind your business."

Izzy stepped forward, jabbing a finger into Nigel’s chest. "He said no."

Nigel shoved his hand aside. "What are you, his bodyguard?"

Izzy didn’t answer. He just rolled up his sleeve.

"Gentlemen," Stede interjected weakly. He felt panicked. 

Nigel squared up. Izzy did too. It was about to go to blows.

Then someone punched Nigel.

Hard.

Nigel stumbled backward, clutching his face.

Stede stood there, fist in the air, eyes wide in shock.

"Izzy," he said, stunned, "I did a punch."

Izzy snorted. "You sure did. Let's get out of here."

As they walked off, blood dripping from a cut on his cheek, a black eye already blooming.

"You’ll pay for this, Baby Bonnet! He won't get out of his contract now!"

Chapter Text

Izzy helped Stede bandage his knuckles in the soft golden light of his apartment kitchen. The space smelled faintly of whiskey, lavender cleaning spray, and something woody, maybe cedar from the worn countertops. It wasn’t a serious injury, but Stede had definitely punched someone, and his hand was definitely not unscathed.

"You gotta tuck your thumb outside the fist, not inside," Izzy muttered, gently wrapping the bandage. "But good follow through. That was solid."

Stede winced as the gauze tightened. "Thank you. I think. I’m not used to... doing punches."

Izzy gave a small grunt of amusement. "No kidding. Still, nice one. Didn’t expect it from you."

"Neither did I," Stede said with a small laugh that quickly faded. He looked down at his hand, then up at Izzy, who was focused on finishing the wrap with practiced precision. "I don't really... do this sort of thing. Violence. It's not in my nature."

"Yeah, well," Izzy replied, cutting the gauze with a small pair of scissors, "sometimes life doesn’t ask if you’re the violent type. Sometimes it just makes you swing."

There was something tentative in the air between them, like dust particles floating quietly through the golden light. They weren’t exactly friends, but something had shifted. Maybe it was the punch. Maybe it was the hug. Maybe it was simply the quiet of the night, settling into the walls.

Izzy poured two whiskeys and handed one to Stede. It was peaty, warming as it went down. Stede settled onto the couch, the cushions giving beneath him like he’d been holding himself too tightly for too long. He stared into the glass, his eyes distant. The tears came fast. He tried to blink them away, shielding his face.

Izzy gently took the glass from his hand. Then the cushion dipped beside him, and strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. Grounding him.

"It’s okay," Izzy said softly. "Let it out."

And Stede did. He cried into Izzy’s chest, the tears hot and soundless. His whole body trembled, small hiccupping breaths catching in his throat.

When it slowed, he muttered, "Sorry. I think I soaked your shirt."

Izzy huffed. "Fuck off, Bonnet. It washes."

The words weren’t sharp. They were kind. Fond.

Izzy shifted back slightly but stayed close. "You gonna tell me what the hell that was all about?"

Stede hesitated, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. Then he began to speak. He told Izzy everything. About Nigel. About boarding school. The torment. The twisted affection. The cruelty disguised as friendship.

He told him about the contract, about Ed, about why he agreed to that god-awful dinner. He told him about the lewd comments and the disgusting proposition. And how it all spiraled.

Izzy didn’t interrupt. His silence was intense, furious in its stillness. Then, he stood abruptly, fists clenched, and stalked to the bookcase.

"Fuck."

Stede flinched. Tears rose again. He covered his face, ashamed.

Izzy returned quickly, knelt in front of him, and gently pulled his hands away. He cupped Stede’s face, thumbs brushing tears aside.

"No. No more tears. Especially not for that fucking bastard."

"It’s not just Nigel. It’s because I let Ed down. And you. I fucked everything up. I always do."

Izzy lifted his chin gently.

"Do I think you should’ve said something? Yeah. But you fucked up trying to protect someone you care about. That’s not failing, Bonnet. That’s just being human."

Stede looked dazed. "You care about me?"

Izzy looked momentarily uncomfortable. "Do I find you annoying? Yeah. But it’s the sort of annoying that... grows on you. Like mold."

Stede let out a watery laugh. "That’s repulsive."

Izzy gave him a tiny smile. "Still true. I don’t hate you. Not even close."

Stede blinked at him, the ache in his chest softening. "You don’t hate me. That’s... genuinely the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me."

Izzy sat back down on the sofa next to Stede with a slow exhale, his eyes still sharp with emotion but his body settling, as if proximity alone might help calm the storm they'd both just weathered. "Well don’t get used to it."

They talked more as they sipped their whiskey. Plans began to form. Lucius. The lawyer. A strategy. Stede visibly relaxed as they talked, no longer curled in on himself.

Eventually, Izzy handed over a pair of joggers and a faded concert tee. The joggers usually hung loose on Izzy’s hips but on Stede they fit rather snuggly, the tee clinging a bit too well to his frame.

"You look ridiculous," Izzy muttered.

"I feel ridiculous considering I am bigger than you," Stede replied, but there was a small, tired smile on his face.

Izzy gave Stede a toothbrush from the unopened stash in the bathroom. Before parting for bed, Stede hesitated at the hallway. Then crossed the space and hugged Izzy.

Izzy grunted but didn’t resist. His arms wrapped around Stede with something firm and steady.

Ed didn’t sleep.

Stede hadn’t come home. There were no texts. No messages. He knew he had gone on a date—but it wasn’t like him to be silent. Not like this.

He kept telling himself there had to be a reasonable explanation. Maybe Stede had just fallen asleep at someone’s place. Maybe his phone died. Maybe he just needed space. But none of those felt right.

He had coffee plans with Izzy in the morning. They were supposed to talk logistics, ideas, strategy. But now Ed had other thoughts on his mind. Ugly, swirling thoughts he couldn’t pin down.

He left early, figured he’d grab pastries. Mostly, he needed to get out of the apartment.

As he neared Izzy’s building, he saw movement by the door. It was Stede.

Stede. In yesterday’s clothes.

Izzy stood in the doorway with him. They talked. Then hugged. And then Stede—Stede kissed his cheek.

Ed froze just out of view, instinctively ducking behind a planter like a kid hiding from something too big to look at head on.

He watched Stede climb into an Uber. Izzy watched him go. Then turned and went back inside.

Ed stared at the empty sidewalk, chest tight.

Did they...?

No. That couldn't be. Could it?

But the hug. The kiss. The clothes. The fucking familiarity of it.

Izzy hated Stede. He was always grumbling about him. Making jabs. Rolling his eyes.

But that didn’t look like hate.

And now Ed felt sick.

They had been hiding this. From him. From everyone. How long had it been going on? Had Stede lied about the date? Was Izzy the date?

Izzy knew. He had to. He knew how Ed felt. Maybe he never said it out loud, but it was there. Always there.

The coffee plan suddenly felt like a trap. But he would go. He had to.

Ed arrived at the café first, choosing a small table tucked near the window. He nursed a cup of black coffee, it was disgusting but he couldn't enjoy his usual treat of chocolate bliss. He was trying to stop his leg from bouncing. The place was cozy but felt suffocating under the weight of what he’d seen.

Izzy showed up a few minutes later, looking characteristically unimpressed with the world. "You’re early. That’s new."

Ed didn’t smile. Didn’t even try. "Coffee’s good."

Izzy ordered his drink, then sat across from Ed. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. "Alright. Let's talk about the book. I've got a few ideas for the promo rollout once your next chapter's done. We should bring in Bonnet's team to help build momentum with the events schedule."

Ed gave him a tight nod, but said nothing. His jaw twitched with each passing second.

Izzy continued, unaware. "We should try a multi-channel teaser drop. Some visuals. A live Q&A, maybe. You’ll need to shoot something for socials. I’ll write the questions. Just show up and talk."

"Fine," Ed said curtly. He sipped his coffee. The bitterness burned.

Izzy paused, finally picking up on the undercurrent. "Okay. What the fuck is wrong with you? Sitting here drinking black coffee and nearly biting my fucking head off."

Ed's gaze darkened. "You fucking know. Don’t play games with me."

Izzy's brows furrowed. "The fuck are you talking about?"

Ed pushed back from the table, standing. His eyes burned holes through Izzy. "We aren't friends. Not anymore. You knew how I felt. And you—"

Izzy stood too, confused. "I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about."

Ed's voice was barely contained rage. "Save it. You fucking knew. You knew and you kept it from me. You think I didn’t notice? The glances? The way he clings to you now?"

People at nearby tables were watching.

Izzy stepped closer, voice low but intense. "I don't know what or who the fuck you are talking about. You need to calm the fuck down."

The tension was a razor. Then Ed’s voice dropped to a cold finality. "Work with me if you have to. But don’t think you get to be my friend. You can fuck right off."

He stormed out, rattling the bell as he shoved the door open with far more force than necessary.

Izzy stood alone in the silence, blinking at the space Ed had just vacated.

Later that morning, Ed returned to his apartment building. As he stepped out of the elevator, he nearly collided with Stede in the hallway. Stede had changed into fresh clothes, his shirt a pale blue cotton that brought out the gold in his hair, and his sweater slung casually around his shoulders. He looked cheery and warm, like he hadn't spent the night tangled in someone else's apartment. Like he hadn’t kissed Izzy’s cheek.

"Ed! There you are," Stede said brightly, his voice full of sunshine. "I stopped by your place and was about to text you to see if you want to go to the farmer’s market. Get lunch, maybe."

Ed stared at him, unable to school his expression. His throat felt dry and his stomach roiled. Stede's smile struck him like a slap across the face. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like Ed’s late-night spiraling had all been for nothing.

"I have other plans," Ed said flatly. His voice didn’t even sound like his own.

Stede blinked, visibly thrown by the chill. "Oh. Well... are we still on for tonight? I was thinking I could cook..."

"No. I need to focus on my book," Ed said, cutting Stede off, each word like ice. "I don’t have time for distractions."

Stede’s smile faltered. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. "Distractions? Ed, what’s going on? Did something happen?"

Ed's eyes were hard, empty in a way that made Stede’s stomach turn. "We should end the balcony shit. I don’t have room for frivolous things like morning tea or evening brandy."

The words hit Stede like a brick. His mouth opened, then closed again. He looked stunned. Small. Like someone had yanked the rug from under his feet.

Ed had already turned away, he couldn't bare to look at Stede, his back rigid as he walked the remaining steps to his apartment. The slam of the door echoed down the hallway like a gunshot.

Inside, Ed slid down the other side of the door, his shoulders curling inward as if trying to make himself disappear. His eyes stung. His chest ached like something snapped that he felt like it couldn’t be put back together again.

Outside, Stede stood frozen. He looked at Ed’s closed door like it might open again. Like maybe there’d be an explanation. But there wasn’t.

In a soft, trembling voice no one could hear, he whispered, "I’m sorry that I am too much."

The hallway gave no answer. His words dissolved into the silence, never making it to the other side of the wall.

Chapter Text

Ed had blackout curtains installed. Thick, heavy things that swallowed sunlight whole. He kept them drawn tight over the sliding glass door to his balcony. He even snapped the lock shut, as if sealing away the memories that clung to it. As far as he was concerned, that space didn’t exist anymore.

He rearranged his days around Stede's schedule. He knew it well enough. When Stede left for the office. When he came home. When he went out for groceries or met Lucius for coffee. Ed made sure to never be in the hallway at the same time. No run-ins. No surprises. No glimmers of hope.

He blocked Stede’s number. Not the agency line, just the personal one.

He drafted the email carefully, every word chosen with precision.

Subject line: "Boundaries"

To: Lucius Spriggs
CC: Stede Bonnet, Israel Hands

Lucius,

Effective immediately, I am requesting that all communication regarding my manuscript and contractual obligations be limited strictly to project-relevant matters. I do not wish to be contacted via phone or text for any personal reasons. All future correspondence should be sent via email and remain focused solely on the work at hand.

Thank you for your understanding.
-Edward Teach

Lucius never replied. Izzy tried. Ed deleted every text, every voicemail, without listening.

In the mirror, Ed looked older. Not in years but in sharpness. He had trimmed down his beard again, carved the edges with a careful, shaking hand. He started wearing black eyeliner. Thicker. Smudged. A warning sign, like storm clouds rolling in.

He drank more. Whiskey during the day. Rum at night.

The book twisted into something else. It had started as a love story. Now it was something colder. Lonelier. A knife disguised as prose.

Weeks passed like they didn’t want to be noticed.

One night, his phone rang. It was Fang.

"Hey, bro!" came Fang’s familiar voice, warm and jolly with his soft Kiwi lilt. "Just checkin’ in. Haven’t heard from you in ages...honestly, been over a month since we last talked and I started thinkin’ maybe you’d been abducted by aliens or joined a silent monastery."

Ed huffed a tired breath through his nose. "Still here."

"Good to know!" Fang said brightly. "I’ve been keepin’ busy. Fostering this scrappy little dog, mate, you should see her. Looks like a gremlin got into a tangle with a sheep. She’s a menace. Peeing on everything but the mat."

That earned a slight smirk from Ed. "Sounds like a dream."

"Total nightmare, but she’s got spirit. Honestly, she reminds me of Izzy, don't tell him," Fang chuckled as did Ed. "Anyway, just makin’ sure you’re alright. Noticed you went a bit ghost-mode. Izzy’s been pacing like a proper nutter. You know him. He doesn’t pace unless he’s about to throttle someone or cry."

Ed leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Just needed space."

Fang said, voice softening. "Just...don’t shut everyone out forever, yeah? We miss your miserable mug."

"No promises," Ed murmured.

"Ah, you gotta buck up. Listen, how about you and I go out for lunch tomorrow, hey."

"Yeah, could do lunch, mate," Ed relented.

Fang said with a chuckle. "Just know, I’m checkin’ in again next week whether you like it or not. Don’t make me send a singing telegram."

Ed couldn’t help it, a dry laugh escaped him. "You do that and I’ll change my number."

"Then I’ll just show up with the gremlin mini-Izzy dog."

"See you tomorrow, mate."

Ed hung up with a quiet snort, the corners of his mouth twitching just slightly upward before falling still again. The silence that followed didn’t feel quite so suffocating.

Later that day, an email from Lucius popped up with a subject line as cheerful as ever: "Hey hey, updates and check-ins!" It was mostly business, a request for the next batch of chapters and a status update on the final push for Ed's contract release.

Ed read it, barely registered the words, and attached the most recent chapters without a second thought. No notes, no greeting. Just the work. Let them think what they wanted. He would finish this book. Then maybe, he’d disappear somewhere far. Maybe China. Or Nepal. Or some place with mountains and no internet.

The next day, Ed was walking back from lunch with Fang, his head full of their conversation about gremlin dogs and stubborn friends. He had taken the long route home, avoiding the side of the building with the balconies. But as he turned the corner from the stairwell into the main hallway, he stopped short.

Stede was there.

He was texting, distracted. He hadn’t noticed Ed yet.

He wore tight-fitting cream chinos, rolled slightly at the ankle to show off warm brown leather oxfords with subtle blue stitching. His robin egg blue shirt had the top two buttons undone, the sleeves rolled just above the elbow.

His hair looked effortlessly styled, swept to the side in gentle waves. The scent that hit Ed was lavender with something deeper. Bergamot? Cedar? It didn’t matter. It was Stede. Beautiful, it made feelings stir deep within and then the feelings crashed in causing his stomach to clench.

He wanted to cry. Or punch the wall. Maybe both.

Stede looked up from his phone.

His eyes lit up, and for a second, he smiled.

Then he really looked at Ed.

The smile faded. Concern swept in.

Ed held up a hand before Stede could speak.

"Fuck you."

The words left his mouth like acid.

He stormed to his apartment, the door slamming shut behind him.

He didn’t look back.

Later that night, Ed was nursing a drink on his sofa, the only light coming from the muted flicker of the television. He hadn’t even noticed what was on. His head was pounding.

Then came the banging.

At first it was a knock. Then louder. Faster. Relentless.

Ed groaned and got up, shoulders tight with irritation. He fully expected Izzy, ready to yell him back into clarity.

He yanked open the door ready to tell Izzy off.

It was Lucius.

Hair wild. Face flushed with fury.

"What. The absolute. Fuck," Lucius snapped, storming inside before Ed could stop him. "It has been almost six weeks, Edward, you don’t get to implode and freeze us out and treat everyone like shit just because you're emotionally constipated!"

Ed blinked, stunned silent.

Lucius pointed a finger right at his chest. "You think Stede's not hurting? You think Izzy is immune to you being an absolute dick?"

Ed opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked between Lucius and the door before closing it. He stood there staring at him for what felt like forever.

Lucius made himself comfortable on the sofa. "We’re not giving up on you, Ed. No matter how hard you push. Now pour me a drink. I’m not leaving until you talk."

Chapter Text

Stede stood in Izzy's hallway, the morning sun slicing through the blinds as he shrugged on his coat. The night before replayed in his head like a bad soap. The date with Nigel. The awful kiss. The moment his knuckles collided with that bastard’s face. Then, the relief of Izzy's arms, the rare warmth of their strange friendship starting to solidify into something real.

He thanked Izzy again, softly, as he stepped out. "I'll text later. We should talk about the... publisher thing." They hugged, and without a second thought, Stede kissed Izzy's cheek.

Izzy nodded. "Yeah. We will. Take it easy, Bonnet."

Back in his own apartment, Stede moved on autopilot. Shower. Hair. A pale blue cotton button-down that brought out the gold in his hair, paired with his favorite well-fitted chinos. He slung a soft sweater casually around his shoulders, more out of habit than need.

Something about looking his best helped him hold together the fraying edges. He made tea, tried to tidy up, even wiped down the already-clean counters, pretending everything was fine.

The notes he jotted in his calendar read clinical: "Email lawyer. Talk to Izzy. Contingency plan?" He underlined it twice. That helped nothing.

The market. That would help. The bustling chatter, the scent of baked goods and coffee, fresh produce stacked in little wooden crates. Stede smiled faintly thinking of Ed, how much he would love the place.

He grabbed his bag, hesitated, then stepped out into the hallway. A soft knock on Ed’s door. No answer. Maybe he was still out with Izzy. Maybe they were grabbing breakfast.

He stepped toward the lift, pulling out his phone to send a quick text, when the elevator doors slid open.

Ed stood there.

Stede blinked, heart skipping. "Ed! There you are," he said brightly, voice full of hope. "I stopped by your place and was about to text you to see if you want to go to the farmer’s market. Get lunch, maybe."

Ed's eyes locked on him, unreadable. Stede smiled, but it slowly fell as he realized that Ed was upset.

"I have other plans," Ed said, flat and cold.

Stede blinked, confused by the shift. "Oh. Well... are we still on for tonight? I was thinking I could cook..."

"No. I need to focus on my book," Ed cut in. "I don’t have time for distractions."

Stede felt like Ed had just slapped him in the face. Distraction. Was that all Stede was? Too much. The thought rang through his head. He shifted on his feet, fingers curling in the hem of his sweater. "Distractions? Ed, what’s going on? Did something happen?"

Ed stared straight through him. "We should end the balcony shit. I don’t have room for frivolous things like morning tea or evening brandy."

The words hit Stede like a blow to the chest. His mouth opened, then closed again. He looked stunned. Small. Like he had just been shoved off a ledge.

Ed turned and walked away. The slam of his door echoed down the hallway. Stede stood frozen, the silence swallowing everything.

His phone hung heavy in his hand. In a soft, trembling voice no one could hear, he whispered, "I’m sorry that I am too much."

The farmer’s market didn’t seem so bright anymore.

The market still happened. He walked around like a ghost, clutching a cloth bag with trembling hands. He bought too many peaches. When the vendor said, "Lovely day," he almost started crying.

Back home, he avoided the balcony. He texted Izzy. "Hey. Is something wrong with Ed? Did I do something?"

No reply.

Days passed. The email from Ed landed like a rock in his gut. Lucius came into his office moments after it hit their inboxes.

"What the actual hell is this?" Lucius asked, waving his phone.

Stede stared at his own screen. "I... I don't know."

Lucius tried calling Izzy. He didn’t answer either.

When Izzy finally came into the office days later, he was short. Blunt. Not his usual gruff-soft self. They sat down with the lawyer, going over possible outcomes if Ed pulled his contract. Everyone was tense.

One morning, Stede stood on the balcony and saw them. The blackout curtains. Drawn tight over Ed’s patio door. He hadn’t just shut Stede out. He’d sealed himself in.

Stede leaned against the railing. The morning was quiet, but the ache in his chest roared. Tears slipped down his cheeks, hot and relentless. He wrapped his arms around himself, rocking slightly. The cool metal of the railing bit into his skin, grounding him just enough.

He stopped going out there after that.

The crew from the old office finally arrived. Roach. Frenchie. Pete Black. Wee John. Olu. Jim. Some had found rentals, others still crashed at an Airbnb Stede arranged. The office buzzed with new energy, new life.

But there was no Ed.

Stede tried texting. The messages stayed unread. He clung to hope longer than he should have. One afternoon he asked Lucius outright.

Lucius glanced at his phone, winced, "Oh Stedey, you’ve been blocked."

Stede nodded slowly, he felt like he should have guessed. Olu, silent and gentle, rested a hand on his shoulder.

He went into his office, locked the door, and collapsed onto the sofa. His throat tightened as sobs poured out. He buried his face in a throw pillow and let it come.

Then came the next encounter.

Stede was by the elevator, distracted as he typed a quick text into his phone about dinner plans. He was mid-sentence when he heard footsteps echoing from the stairwell. Without thinking, he glanced up.

Ed.

He stopped breathing for a second, eyes wide as they met the man standing just down the hall. His heart thumped hard in his chest, the message half-typed forgotten in his hand. For one fleeting moment, warmth bloomed. Relief. Maybe they could talk. Maybe Ed would finally—

But the look on Ed’s face struck him like a slap. No softness. No recognition. Just something dark and angry.

Stede took a hesitant step forward about to speak when he was cut off before he could get the words out.

"Fuck you," Ed snarled, already walking past him.

The hallway spun. The chill in Ed’s voice made Stede’s stomach drop. He turned to watch Ed retreat, blinking like he was trying to make sense of what just happened, of how quickly the sky fell.

He barely made it into his apartment before the panic set in. His breath caught, sharp and ragged. He sank to the floor as the walls closed in, the air grew thick.

His chest spasmed. He dropped to his knees, gasping, clawing at his own throat like that would make room for air.

"It’s okay, it’s okay," he whispered to himself, again and again, like a prayer. Sweat clung to his skin, his shirt stuck to his back. The carpet felt rough against his palms.

The silence that followed Ed’s retreat echoed in his ears louder than any slam of a door. It was louder than anything. It swallowed him whole.

When the tremors slowed and the numbness crept in, he crawled to the couch and fumbled for his phone. He called Lucius. It rang twice before connecting.

"Hey," Stede rasped, voice cracking. "I... I saw Ed again. In the hall. He didn’t say anything. Just looked at me like... like he hated me. I couldn’t breathe. I... I couldn’t—"

Lucius didn’t say much. Just the sound of him breathing on the other end, slow and steady.

"I’m with Izzy," he said at last. His voice dark. Solid. "We’ll sort this."

And Stede, curled on the couch, clutching a throw pillow to his chest, let that be enough for now.

—

Lucius hung up the phone, setting it on Izzy’s coffee table. They were on Izzy’s sofa, tangled up in each other, a rare quiet moment until Stede’s call shattered it.

"You heard all that?" Lucius said, Izzy ran a hand through his hair.
What the fuck happened? He said Ed looked at him like he hated him?"

Lucius asked as he looked at Izzy, "Stede’s a mess. You saw what that email did to him. But this... this was different."

Izzy leaned back, arms crossed. Lucius missing his warmth immediately as he did.

"Ed’s been acting like a kicked dog for weeks. What the hell set him off so bad? He was fine until..."

He trailed off. Then added, "Until the cafe."

Lucius turned to look at him, brow furrowed. "That’s when he blew up at you, right?"

Izzy nodded. "Told me to fuck off. Said we’re not friends anymore. That I knew something and kept it from him. I thought he meant you."

Lucius blinked. "Me?"

Izzy gave a half-hearted shrug. "Yeah. He made it sound like I betrayed him by being with you. That I was sneaking around. That I knew how he felt about you."

Lucius stared. Then sat up straighter. "Wait. Wait. What if... he thinks you and Stede—?"

Izzy went still.

"Oh fucking hell," he muttered. "He must have seen Stede leaving my apartment."

Lucius blinked, then let out a low groan. "And assumed you two were—"

Izzy threw his head back against the sofa cushion. "Fucking Christ. That idiot thinks I’m sleeping with his not-boyfriend."

Lucius pressed in closer to Izzy, "As if things weren’t messy enough already."

Izzy glanced toward the ceiling letting out a breath, jaw tight. "We’ve got to fix this."

Lucius nodded. "Tomorrow. First thing in the morning, well," He smiled cheekily as he kissed into Izzy's neck, "Not first thing, but I’m seeing Ed. Even if he throws me off the damn balcony."

Izzy sighed. "Let’s just make sure he doesn’t throw you off literally."

Lucius gave a weak smile. "Noted."

They both sat there a moment longer, the weight of it all thick in the air.

Izzy muttered, "Fucking hell."

Lucius didn’t disagree.

Chapter Text

Lucius sat cross-legged on Ed's couch, iced coffee sweating in one hand, eyes trained on Ed with unnerving patience. He hadn’t spoken since sitting down, hadn’t asked what was wrong. He just sipped and stared like he had all the time in the world and nowhere else to be. The silence wasn’t warm. It was surgical. Designed to cut.

Ed paced the length of the apartment like a caged animal. His shoulders were tight with tension. His skin itched. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted someone to pull the truth out of him. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to cry. He wanted—to talk to someone, and here was Lucius, staring at him.

"You gonna keep pacing until you wear a trench in the floor or are you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?"

Lucius didn’t even raise his voice. That calm, collected tone only made Ed snap harder.

"I saw him."

Lucius arched a brow. "Who did you see?"

"Stede."

Lucius leaned forward slightly. "Okay, you have to give me more than that."

Ed paused mid-step. He shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and stared down at the floor.

"I saw him leaving Izzy’s place. It was early morning, he hadn't been back to his place. I was worried. But I was on my way to meet Iz at that coffee shop by his place. I was early."

Lucius blinked, head tilting slightly. His brow creased but he kept his tone neutral. "Okay... and?"

Ed’s jaw clenched. His teeth ground together, words slow and hard. "He hugged him. Then kissed him."

Lucius blinked again, this time more slowly, brow raising just a little, lips parting in feigned shock. "They kissed?"

Ed scowled, a deep line cutting between his brows. His mouth twisted like he'd tasted something sour. "On the cheek."

Lucius choked on his coffee, coughing dramatically and grabbing a napkin off the table. "Oh no. Not a cheek kiss. Whatever shall we do."

Ed shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. His whole body was tense, like a rubber band stretched too tight. Lucius threw up a hand in surrender, grinning. "Sorry, sorry. Go on."

"Then he got into an Uber. And I went to the cafe to meet Izzy, and I confronted him."

Lucius’s eyes narrowed slightly, his fingers drumming against his thigh. "What'd he say?"

"Acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about. And I lost it. Told him we weren’t friends. That he could fuck off."

Lucius sipped again, unbothered, his expression unreadable. "Okay. So, just to clarify: Stede gave Izzy a hug and a cheek kiss, and you... cut Izzy and Stede out of your life?"

Ed’s hands curled into fists at his sides. "It wasn’t just that. He knew how I felt. About Stede. He knew."

Lucius pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. His voice was dry. "Ed. Babes. I spoke to Izzy. He thought you were talking about someone else. You never said Stede's name."

Ed stared. Blank. Guarded. His eyes darted toward the balcony, then back to Lucius. "That’s convenient."

"It is. But it’s also true. He thought you were talking about me."

Ed squinted like Lucius had started speaking in tongues. "You? Why the hell would he think that?"

Lucius gave a little flourish and leaned back smugly. "Because he and I are together."

Ed blinked.

Lucius smiled, all too pleased with himself. "It was casual at first. Well, sex. Lots of it. Honestly, man’s got the stamina of someone half his age. I mean, oof he is so well hung and I sometimes wonder if I can keep up. But now it’s... more."

"You and Izzy?" Ed echoed, like his brain had been dunked in ice water.

"Yes. So when you ranted at him like a lunatic, he thought you were pissed about me. And not your little pining mess over Stede."

Ed rubbed his face hard, like trying to scrub the confusion from his skull. "I told you, I saw him."

"Right. You saw him hug Izzy and kiss him on the cheek. Which, if you knew anything about Stede, you’d know that’s how he says thank you. Or goodbye. Or good morning."

"He clearly stayed the night."

Lucius nodded slowly. "He did. Because his date Nigel sexually assaulted him, and Stede clocked him. But that was after Izzy happened to cross their path and interrupted, got him out of there, bandaged him up, let him sleep it off in the guest room."

Ed was reeling, his face pale as the blood drained from it. "I—I don't understand. Who is Nigel? Stede was on a date."

He felt his throat tighten as the words left him, shame and confusion washing over him like a cold tide. His chest ached, and a terrible pressure settled behind his eyes. All this time, he'd thought he understood what happened. But clearly, he hadn't. A

nd now he was left with the crushing weight of jealousy and regret. Stede had been out on a date—with someone else. He'd spent the night at Izzy’s. He’d kissed him. Ed could barely breathe.

Lucius, watching the emotions flicker across Ed’s face, realized the full scale of the spiral. Fuck. This was worse than he thought.

"Get out," Ed growled, his voice rough, already cracking at the edges.

"Ed," Lucius tried, voice gentler now.

"Get out now, before I throw you off my balcony," Ed snapped, the fury in his voice brittle with pain.

Lucius pulled out his phone and called Izzy, putting it on speaker. Ed watched him with confusion.

Izzy picked up after a beat. "Everything okay, love? Did you talk to Ed?"

"Sort of. He threatened to toss me off the balcony," Lucius said casually, leaning further into the couch cushions as he cradled his coffee like a lifeline.

"Dickfuck," Ed shot back before Izzy could even respond, his voice sharp and defensive, like a reflex more than a thought. "I didn’t mean...it wasn't a serious threat."

Lucius smirked. "Well. We cleared up the whole you not fucking Stede thing," he added, his voice laced with dry amusement.

Ed, standing behind the armchair with his arms crossed tight against his chest, muttered under his breath without turning around, "M'not jealous." His voice was low, raw, like it hurt to say even that much. The way he stared out the glass door made it obvious to everyone listening that he was lying.

Lucius ignored him. "I told him why Stede stayed at your place. About Nigel. About the punch."

Izzy sighed audibly through the speaker. "Edward. Your boyfriend got assaulted by his ex-bully because the guy implied he could smooth over the publishing issues."

Lucius added, voice softening only slightly, "Nigel Badminton, the sleaze works for your publisher. Of course, you didn't know what had happened but you could have asked. Instead, you jumped to conclusions then you ghosted him and had blackout curtains installed."

"Why didn’t he tell me about this Nigel?"

Ed's voice was thin, almost breaking, and his eyes shimmered with something too heavy to name. He was gripping the back of the chair now like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

"Because he’s an idiot. Like you," Izzy snapped, his voice sharp and cutting through the speaker like a slap, but it wasn’t cruel...just blunt, exasperated.

Lucius shifted on the couch, his own expression softening, the humor draining from his face. He looked toward Ed with something closer to sympathy.

"He didn’t want to bother you," Lucius said, gentler. "Didn’t want the situation another weight on your shoulders."

Ed looked hollow, like someone had scooped him out. His shoulders slumped, and he stared at a fixed point on the floor, eyes wide and unfocused. The weight of everything he’d misunderstood, miscommunicated, and mishandled settled over him like wet cement.

Lucius continued, "You broke your heart and Stede's. He actually has been out and dating recently because he felt very rejected by you. He's been seeing this guy named Charles, I don't love him for Stede. But Stede seems to like them, pretty sure it's getting serious. Despite that...all I know is that bizarre, little man likes you very much and you like him. But clearly, you are both idiots."

Ed jerked his head up like he’d been slapped. "He does?" The words were barely above a whisper, his voice fragile, confused.

"Fuck me, you're dense," Izzy muttered. "Yes, Edward...anyone with eyes can see that Bonnet is in love with you. Except you."

Ed’s heart thudded heavily in his chest. He wanted to believe it. But the mention of Charles… that name echoed in his head like a warning bell. He looked at Lucius with wide, panicked eyes. "Fuck, you said he is seeing someone. What do I do now?"

Izzy sighed long and hard. "Nothing. Or, well... at least try talking with him instead of avoiding him."

Lucius nodded firmly. "Yeah, agreed. Like I said, he is seeing Charles. Maybe focus on rebuilding your friendship. Show up, quit being a dick."

Ed nodded slowly. His heart felt like it was stitched together with trembling thread, the pit in his stomach yawning wider. But he also felt something else—resolve.

Lucius finally smiled, a spark of approval in his eyes. "Good. Because if you mess this up again, I will be the one throwing you off the balcony."

Izzy chimed in over the phone, "I’ll help."

Ed managed a weak laugh. He needed to reach out and try to mend things with Stede. 

Chapter Text

Stede lay curled in bed, silk pajamas wrinkled and tangled around his legs. The golden velvet of his kaftan pooled like a forgotten cloak across his back. The soft light from the balcony filtered in through sheer curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. His phone was still clutched in his hand, the screen dim now, but earlier it had glowed with the last message he'd received from Ed months ago...read over and over again.

Now the memory from their fallout plays in his mind like a film. The hallway. Ed. That flat stare, that empty tone. The words that sounded like someone else's voice wearing Ed's face.

The his thoughts shifted to yesterday. Relentlessly replayed the recent moment in his head to make sense of it, but each time it came back more fragmented. He thought he'd caught a flicker of something beneath Ed's mask—something tired and aching. Was he eating enough? Sleeping? Why did he look so drawn?

Stede wanted to reach out. He wanted to pull Ed into his arms and tell him it was alright, that they could talk about whatever this was. But instead, he had stood there with his heart stripped bare while Ed walked away. Then ran to his apartment like a coward.

The weight of it all collapsed on top of him, he didn't sleep at all. At least it doesn't feel like it. He cancelled the morning's meetings. Sent a message to Charles to reschedule their lunch, blaming a migraine and maybe coming down with something.

Charles had been understanding, as always. But Stede hadn't even managed to change out of his sleepwear. He hadn’t brushed his hair. Hadn’t shaved. One look in the mirror had made his stomach churn. Puffy eyes, messy curls, a tightness around his mouth that made him look older than he felt.

He buried himself further in bed, scrolling through his message thread with Ed like it might give him answers. There were texts from before, cheerful and teasing. Jokes about anything and everything. Mostly silly things, about rabbits being wolves. Compliments on his evening brandy picks. Nothing that explained why it had all fallen apart.

And just like that, the tears came just when he thought he could not cry any more. Heavy and sudden. He curled tighter, sobbing into the satin pillow, wondering how he'd managed to mess everything up. He thought he finally had a best friend. Maybe something more. Maybe he was foolish for thinking so.

Eventually, the exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted into a fitful sleep, still curled around his phone like it might anchor him to something solid.

It was nearly two in the afternoon when a knock jolted him awake. He startled upright, blinking against the sunlight that had shifted across the floor. A faint ache pulsed behind his eyes, his body heavy with lingering grief. He rubbed his face, wincing at how tender his eyes felt, then ran a hand through his tangled curls, trying to neaten himself before stumbling downstairs.

"Coming," he croaked, voice hoarse and ragged from crying and sleep.

Some foolish part of him, still aching and hopeful, imagined it might be Ed. That maybe he’d come to apologize. Or explain. Or just—look at him the way he used to.

But when he opened the door, it was Charles. Standing at the threshold with a plastic bag in hand and an easy, patient smile. The smell of something warm and citrusy drifted up from the bag.

"Charles," Stede said, forcing his posture straighter and trying to smooth the disappointment in his voice.

"Hey," Charles said gently. "I know you said you weren’t feeling well, but I brought soup. That little cafe near the library? Their lentil and lemon one you like. Figured it might help."

Stede's heart fluttered in reflex. That was considerate. And kind. And exactly the sort of thing he should appreciate. "Oh, that’s very thoughtful. But I really wouldn’t want you to catch anything."

Charles just gave a small shrug, stepping inside like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Worth it."

He moved easily into the kitchen, puttering with the soup like he’d done it dozens of times before. The familiarity of it, of him, settled uncomfortably in Stede’s stomach. Charles ushered him toward the living room and Stede let himself be guided, sinking into the cushions as the warm bowl was pressed into his hands.

The steam rose gently, but the scent didn’t stir his appetite. Charles sat nearby, posture relaxed, fingers tapping the side of his own mug.

He tried. He made conversation about the weather, a show he’d watched, some article he read—but Stede’s replies were muted. Distracted. His mind kept returning to the hollow look in Ed’s eyes.

"We could watch something?" Charles offered lightly. "A movie or that weird travel show you said looked good?"

Stede parted his lips to say no, to politely decline and perhaps fake another headache—when another knock sounded at the door.

He flinched. His heart skipped.

Charles was already on his feet. "I’ve got it. Rest."

Stede hesitated, eyes following Charles as he crossed the foyer. Something tightened in his chest. He strained to hear—there were voices, low and indistinct. One of them rough. Familiar.

By the time Charles returned, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish look, Stede's entire body was tense.

"Your neighbor stopped by," Charles said. "Didn’t leave a message. Said they’d see you around."

Stede went very still. His fingers curled tighter around the bowl. The soup sloshed slightly against the edge.

Ed. It had to be Ed.

He imagined it too easily—the way Ed must’ve stood there, waiting, only to be greeted by Charles instead. The image twisted in his gut like a knife.

Something cold and guilty settled in his chest. He suddenly wasn’t hungry at all.

He set the soup aside. He didn’t even touch it again.

Chapter Text

Stede hadn’t eaten more than a few polite spoonfuls of soup, and his stomach churned not from illness, but emotion. The visit from Ed, however brief and Ed only having talked with Charles, had left a weight on his chest that no amount of rest or tea could fix.

Charles, ever sweet and considerate, didn’t push. But his presence grated now, a reminder of everything that wasn’t working. Stede forced a smile and gently took Charles’s hand.

“Thank you for the soup,” he said softly. “And for coming by. I just... I think I need the evening to rest properly. It’s just a migraine. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Charles hesitated. His eyes searched Stede’s face, full of quiet concern, but he didn’t argue. “Alright,” he said. “Just promise me you’ll eat something later?”

“I promise.”

Stede leaned forward and kissed his cheek. It was gentle. Warm. But it felt hollow to him, like he was performing affection rather than offering it. Charles smiled anyway, gave his hand a squeeze as Stede walked with him to the door, and he left.

The door clicked shut with a finality that echoed through the empty space.

And the moment it did, Stede slumped against it with a sigh, pressing his forehead to the wood. The stillness that followed seemed louder than Charles's quiet exit. Then he turned and retrieved his phone, speed dialing Lucius.

“Everything okay, Stedey?” Lucius answered, voice cautious but kind.

“Lucius... he came by.”

There was a pause. “Ed?”

“Yes. But Charles answered the door. I didn’t even realize until it was too late. Lucius—what the hell is going on?”

Lucius exhaled. “I did speak with him. But it’s not really my place. It’s Ed’s story to tell.”

Stede’s heart squeezed. “I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did. He looked... he looked awful when I saw him yesterday, Lucius. Is he alright?”

Another pause. “I think he’s trying to be. I really can't say more, which you know is killing me.”

Stede nodded silently, then murmured, “I’ll be in tomorrow.”

"It's totally okay if you're not though," Lucius offered, his tone more gentle now. "I mean, you're the boss. We totally have things under control."

Stede chuckled weakly, "I am sure you do. If I change my mind, I will send a text. Thanks, Lu."

"Anytime," Lucius said.

Stede ended the call and tossed the phone onto the couch. Slowly, he turned toward the balcony doors, their curtains drawn open to the soft gold of late afternoon sun.

He stood there, staring.

The balcony. That ridiculous little concrete strip where everything had started. Where Ed would appear like clockwork, smile slow and real. Where they’d laughed. Confided. Drank coffee and tea. Been brave enough to imagine something more.

He hadn’t felt that kind of ease, that kind of comfort, since. Even with Charles. Maybe especially with Charles.

The ache welled up in his chest again, raw and stubborn.

He turned away, intent on surrendering to his sorrows in bed. But as he climbed the stairs, something in him snapped.

No.

He wasn’t going to wallow.

Ed had come to him.

He missed his chance.

Stede marched to his auxiliary wardrobe and yanked the doors open. He found joggers and a soft, weathered tee—cream with a faded sunset print across the chest. He pulled them on with an urgency that made his limbs shake. He slipped on shoes and paused at the mirror.

He looked dreadful. Eyes red, curls wild. The sadness sat heavy under his skin. He splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom, patted it dry, and tried rather futilely to tame his hair. The curls only seemed to spring back more defiantly.

Still, he squared his shoulders. Determined.

Downstairs again, he hovered at the door.

“I’m going to knock,” he whispered to himself. “Just knock. Simple.”

But what if Ed wasn’t home?

What if he called the building manager?

He glanced to the side, to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he was stepping outside.

The air was warm and dry, the breeze catching the hem of his tee. The scent of city dust and faint jasmine from someone’s window box filled the air. He crossed the short space to Ed’s side of the balcony. The curtains were drawn, thick blackout panels sealing away whatever light was left inside.

The quiet hum of the city sat beneath everything, but up here it felt suspended. Private. Intimate.

Stede closed his eyes and took a long, steadying breath.

“I am adequate,” he whispered.

Then, with a trembling hand, he raised his fist and knocked on the glass.

Then he waited.

And hoped.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18: The Card

Ed had gathered his courage to go by Stede's after Izzy and Lucius left. He was still reeling from the fact that they were together. Like together-together. Good on them.

He felt sheepish now, realizing he had jumped to conclusions about Stede and Izzy. God, now that he thought about it, his blow-up at Izzy probably sounded like he was accusing him of something with Lucius. On top of that, he probably made it sound like he had a thing for Lucius. 

Not that Lucius wasn’t attractive in his own way—bit young for Ed. There was an appeal. Not like that. Sort of. Ugh. Ed was spiraling again.

He needed to figure out how to talk to Stede. He’d fucked up. Bad. He probably lost his best friend. Hurt him. And now, apparently, Stede was dating someone. Fuck. With a capital F.

He paced his apartment for a while, then decided he knew what he had to do. Lucius mentioned Stede was home today and not feeling well. Was that because of him? Because of yesterday, when Ed basically fled like Stede was radioactive?

Ed changed into a clean black hoodie and jeans, threw his hair into a messy bun, grabbed his keys, and made his way out. He knew what Stede liked. London Fog and an orange cranberry scone from Moonlight Cafe. A peace offering. A beginning.

He imagined the Hallmark card: "Sorry I ghosted you because I thought you fucked Izzy, which is mad now that I think about it but also not because it would totally be a lovers to enemies trope. I would know, I'm a writer."

He huffed a bitter laugh. Hallmark didn’t make those.

As the elevator dinged, Ed stepped in. A tall, square-jawed man was exiting. Tan skin, dark brown hair, blue eyes very handsome and attractive. Not Ed's type but the guy was good looking. Jeans and a green tee with a Members Only jacket. They nodded politely.

Had to be the neighbor's grandson she kept talking about.

Ed headed toward Moonlight, the fresh air and small sense of purpose calming his nerves. He saw a little gift shop with cards in the window and detoured. A watercolor floral design caught his eye—edelweiss. Stede would like that. It felt right.

Card in hand, he made it to the cafe. The bell jingled as the barista, Marco, waved. Ed placed the order and asked to borrow a pen. He sat near the window, carefully composing his message:

To Stede I am a dick.

Nothing I can say will make up for how I behaved and treated you. Ghosted you. You don't deserve that.

You deserve flowers, London Fogs, scones, brandy, and a better friend than me.

I am sorry that I cut you off and didn't say anything because I thought you fucked Izzy when you stayed over at his after a date you didn't tell me about.

Well, you did but about with who it was and how he's a childhood bully involved with my publisher, well soon to be ex-publisher. I miss you. I miss your face, your smile.

I miss us. Please forgive me.

Yours forever even when I am a dick.

Ed

He read it over. Not his most polished work, but honest. It wasn't flowery. It wasn't clever. But it was the truth.

He picked up the order, slipped the card carefully into the bag so it wouldn't get bent, and stepped outside. The walk back was slower this time. Each step felt weighted, like he was carrying more than just a bag of pastries and tea. Like he was carrying missed chances and the hollow ache of a fractured friendship. The loss of something he knew could be more between them. He avoided thinking about the L-word. But he felt it deep within his soul, he had since the day he met his polite menace of a neighbor.

He lingered in the elevator, watching the numbers climb with a tight chest. By the time the doors opened on their floor, the nerves had flooded back. His palms were sweating. He wiped them on his jeans before walking the familiar path to Stede’s door.

He knocked, then stepped back. A flutter of movement inside, muffled footsteps against hardwood. The sound made his heart jump and then sink.

The door opened.

It was Mr. Blue Eyes. The man from the elevator. Jeans. Members Only jacket. Still perfectly pleasant.

Ed’s stomach twisted itself into a knot.

"Hello," the man said, voice calm, polite. "Can I help you?"

Ed forced a crooked smile. "Oh, um. I was just stopping by to see Stede. M'his neighbor," he added, motioning vaguely toward his own apartment door. "Tell him I’ll see him around."

The words tasted like ash in his mouth. He turned before he could betray himself further, before he could say what he really wanted to. That he had a bag full of apologies and a heart that hadn’t stopped aching since Stede vanished from his life. No, since he forced Stede form his life. Now Stede had Mr. Blue Eyes to bring him flowers and sweet treats. 
"I will," Mr. Blue Eyes called out.

The door clicked shut behind him. He stood in the hallway for a beat, stunned. Then he made himself move.

Back in his apartment, the air felt stale and too bright. The silence pressed in like fog. He dropped the bag on the kitchen counter with trembling hands. The scone sat there, cheerful and useless. He shoved the tea into the fridge, telling himself he'd drink it later. Or never. He unceremoniously tossed the card on the counter. 

He drifted through the apartment like a sleepwalker, ending up back in the pillow fort he’d made in the living room. He crawled inside like it was a shelter from a storm and lay down, letting the tears come in quiet waves.

Eventually, exhaustion took him. Sleep didn’t ask permission.

When he woke, the light had shifted. It was quieter now—late afternoon shadows crawling along the walls. He blinked against the dimness.

Then he heard it.

Movement from the balcony.

A knock.

Soft but firm.

His heart vaulted into his throat. For a second, he was afraid to move, as if doing so would shatter the fragile reality. Then he pushed himself up, limbs heavy, and shuffled to the sliding glass door.

He reached out, fingers trembling slightly, and parted the curtain just enough to see.

Stede.

Mad curls in disarray. Puffy eyes. That same kaftan draped around him like armor.

His Stede.

Right there.

Chapter Text

Ed stood frozen at the edge of the curtain, hand still clutching the fabric like it might anchor him to the moment. Stede was there. Really there. Not a dream. Not a memory conjured up by guilt and loneliness. His heart slammed against his ribs.

Stede stood on the other side of the glass, the balcony between them stretching like a chasm. His hair was a mess of soft curls, untamed and still damp from where he had tried, and failed, to smooth them down. Ed felt the pang of familiarity, of fondness.

Stede's face was flushed, the puffiness around his eyes speaking of sleep lost and tears shed. He wore joggers and a soft cream-colored tee that fit tightly across the chest. Ed's eyes lingered there for a second longer than he meant to, the outline of Stede's chest visible through the thin, worn fabric.

His brain short-circuited a little. Was it always this easy to forget how to breathe? His thoughts wandered, traitorously, lingering on the way that shirt clung, how soft Stede probably felt under it. He wanted—desperately, embarrassingly—to make a home and live forever on Stede's tits. It was stupid. He shook his head, the tips of his ears burning.

He pulled himself back with a tiny shake, chastising the sudden, entirely unhelpful wave of horny panic. But it couldn’t fully override the ache in his chest—because underneath the lust was something heavier. He missed him. Missed all of him.

And then Stede knocked again. A gentle rap. Not impatient. Not demanding. Just… hopeful.

Ed let the curtain fall back into place and stood there for a beat, the air too thick in his lungs. He turned and walked back toward the kitchen on autopilot. The card still sat on the counter, crooked and unopened. The scone, untouched. The tea, probably cold by now, rested like a ghost in the fridge. His apology. The peace offering he never got to give.

He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t even have words. But he had Stede, right now, knocking on his glass like maybe... just maybe there was still a chance. A chance to mend their friendship. A chance to rekindle... no. Stede had Charles. But Ed wanted....needed Stede in his life. Somehow. However he could have him. His polite menace. His lunatic.

Ed walked back to the door, slowly this time, his fingers brushing along the backs of the couch cushions as he passed. As he reached the curtain, he took one last breath and slid the door open.

The outside air rushed in, cool and crisp, brushing his face like a balm and a slap at once.

Stede turned at the sound, his lips parting slightly. His eyes searched Ed’s face, flickering with uncertainty, exhaustion, and something else—something Ed couldn’t name yet.

“Hi,” Stede said, voice rough around the edges like it hadn’t been used all day.

Ed swallowed. “Hi.”

They stared at each other, the quiet stretching into something just short of unbearable. Ed stepped out, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft click. The tension between them wasn’t gone, but it shifted—tilted slightly toward possibility.

“I—uh,” Stede started, then faltered. He looked down at his shoes, which didn’t match his outfit in the slightest. Canvas slip-ons with a fading pattern of tiny lemons. Ed’s lips twitched despite himself.

“You okay?” Ed asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Stede looked up again, blinking like he hadn’t expected the question. “No,” he admitted, “but I’m trying.”

Ed nodded. “Me too.”

Silence again. But softer, this time. Less like a wall and more like a waiting place.

“I didn’t mean to avoid you,” Stede said, voice wavering just enough to betray the hours of overthinking behind the words. “And I didn’t mean to let Charles answer the door. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Ed raised his eyebrows. “Charles?”

“Ah. Yes. The man who answered. He’s… someone I’m seeing. Kind of.”

That landed like a punch to the chest, but Ed kept his face still. He nodded slowly, forcing the corners of his mouth up in a tight smile. “He seems nice.”

Stede looked away, out over the rooftops, the wind tugging lightly at the hem of his kaftan. “He is. But he’s not…” He trailed off, then added more quietly, “He’s not you.”

Ed’s breath caught.

There it was. The thing neither of them had been able to say. Not fully. Not until now.

“I brought you tea when I cam by earlier,” Ed said. “And a scone. Your favorite. It’s in my kitchen. I—uh—I also wrote you a card. I was gonna leave it, but then I panicked.”

Stede let out a watery laugh. “You? Panic? Never.”

Ed laughed too, small and shaky. “Yeah. Well. I’m a dick, remember?”

“Youre' not a dick. Life's a dick,” Stede said, eyes finally meeting his. “You're my best friend. My person.”

The words hung between them, ridiculous and sincere. And then, like a dam giving way, they both laughed. Really laughed. Not loud. Not carefree. But real.

And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, Ed felt the tension in his chest ease.

“Do you… want to come in?” he asked.

Stede nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Ed stepped aside and held the door open. As Stede passed him, their arms brushed. The touch was fleeting but electric. Ed found himself exhaling slowly, trying to keep it together.

He followed Stede inside, letting the door slide closed behind them.

The balcony was empty again—but it had done its job.

It brought them back together.

Maybe not as they were before.

Maybe better.