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When Stede woke up that morning to an empty bed at half six, he wasn't all that surprised to find Ed knitting in the living room. Still wearing his soft sleep clothes from the night before, Ed’s tucked under one of their impractically large blankets lounging on the couch, working on the sweater he’s determined to finish for Louis’ birthday next week. He’d taken his knitting work to bed last night, more than halfway left to go by the time Stede finally fell asleep tucked against him. Looking at the soft yellow sweater lying across Ed’s lap now, though, only missing the bottom half of one sleeve, Stede could guess what Ed’s night had consisted of after he’d fallen asleep.
Ed didn’t seem to notice Stede at first, his eyes focusing on his hands through his wide frame glasses, silently mouthing his stitch counting as he finished off a row. His hair’s been tucked up in a messy bun on the back of his head, only a few strands in the front having escaped to frame his face. His hands move quickly, never pausing as he casts off one row and begins another.
The TV is on, but the volume turned down to a low murmur, providing only a pleasant hum in the background – something to just keep Ed from being alone with his own thoughts, Stede knows. Most of the living room lights aren’t on, only a few lowlight lamps softly glowing throughout the room. He can see the remaining vestiges of activity in the kitchen from here, several bowls and cups stacked in the sink that weren’t there come bedtime last night.
Stede’s chest tightens as he slots all of the pieces together, realizing that his husband has likely been up for a while. Shifting his weight, he wraps his robe around himself just a little tighter, and the small movement is enough to pull Ed’s attention away from his needles and yarn. He looks up at Stede, finding his gaze across the room, and the corners of his mouth tug upwards in a smile that Stede could’ve drowned in.
“Hi,” Ed beams.
“Good morning,” Stede matches Ed’s soft grin.
Ed’s brow furrows at Stede’s greeting, eyes widening in surprise before glancing around him as if in search of something. “Is it really?” he asks, patting the blanket and finally finding his phone under one of its many folds. He studies it a moment, blinking several times as if not comprehending the time staring back up at him.
“Oh.” The disappointment in his voice twists in Stede’s stomach, that beautiful smile from only moments ago vanishing as quickly as it’d appeared.
“Didn’t mean to do that,” Ed mumbles, removing his glasses to scrub his face with an annoyed huff, then tossing them onto the nearby coffee table. He slips a stitch marker onto his row before he shoves that, too, onto the table, quickly followed by his phone. Even from the doorway, Stede can see the tense lines of his body that weren’t there before, feeling this new agitation radiating off of Ed at some frustration he hasn’t yet shared. His mind races to find a way to help.
“Care to share a bite?” he tries to divert, gesturing to the cupboards – Ed’s clearly been eating over the course of however long he’s been awake, but Stede’s hoping that a snack might help, even if just to settle him long enough for Stede to understand why he’s so frustrated.
Ed seems to know exactly what Stede’s plan is from the eye roll he receives in response, but he also receives a small nod, which he will happily accept. It’s not a sure fix, but Stede’s seen how focused Ed can become when he’s working on a project, and knows that it’s more than likely he’s been tuned out to what his body really needs for some time. And maybe this can be the start of the solution.
Crossing into their kitchen, Stede makes quick work of filling a water bottle from the pitcher in the fridge and pocketing one of Ed’s favorite snack bars from the shelf on the door. Regardless of what’s currently wrong – although Stede has a sneaking suspicion as to what it is – these have always been a safe bet. Returning the pitcher to its home, he hesitates for a moment, before dropping another bar into his robe’s pocket.
When he returns to the living room, Ed’s moved down on the couch, leaving enough room for Stede to settle behind him. Stede slides in easily between the couch arm and Ed’s back, his legs stretching forward to bracket Ed’s hips. He adjusts himself, finding the most comfortable position, before tugging Ed back up against him. Ed immediately leans back into him, his back resting against Stede’s chest, as they settle together. Stede reaches around to hand Ed the energy bar, which Ed accepts with a soft thank you.
It’s quiet while Ed eats, the soft hum of the TV accompanying the growing beams of light streaming through their curtains. Soon enough, Ed silently passes the bar back to Stede, who takes a single bite before returning it to Ed to finish. Ed crumples the now empty wrapper, trading it for the water bottle Stede left on the table, taking several large swigs before returning it.
“How long have you been awake, love?” Stede murmurs into the crown of Ed's hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his curls as he tries again to understand what’s wrong. He has a hunch, of course, based on the current state of their living room and the dark circles under Edward's eyes, but Stede's not particularly interested in proving hunches right now.
Ed isn’t quick to answer, tracing a slow pattern with a featherlight touch against the back of Stede's hand as he hesitates. Stede's patient, in absolutely no rush while Ed finds his words. He presses another kiss to Ed's temple, tightening his hold on him. Stede's got him – no matter what, Stede's got him.
After a moment, Ed clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably against Stede. “Never actually went to bed,” he admits, voice low and just edged with an embarrassment that Stede wants to whisk away from him and chuck straight into the sea.
Stede can feel how taut Ed's muscles are, wrapped around him like this. Ed keeps his gaze trained down on the blanket in front of him, refusing to look back, to come anywhere close to meeting Stede's longing gaze right now, and Stede's heart just about shatters. He knows these nights are hard for Ed, when his mind and body just won't settle for long enough to allow him to properly rest. And despite Stede's frequent reassurances, Ed still criticizes himself for it, as if he's somehow failed.
There's not much he can do to reassure Ed during these bouts, no words that can truly soothe over the ache that Stede knows is Ed's constant companion. All Stede wishes he could do is keep Ed wrapped up in his arms, tucked away from the rest of the world under a blanket, together, until the storm passes.
“When did you come out here?”
“Probably an hour after you fell asleep?” Stede’s heart plummets at that, just feeling an overwhelming sadness, really, at the thought that Ed’s been out here, alone, for that many hours. “I’m not, uh, I’m not really sure, to be honest,” Ed continues. “I just needed to move, ya know? My brain was just so…loud and my skin was, like, crawling. I couldn’t stay in there, and you were sleeping and I didn’t wanna bother you so I just came out here – I – I wasn’t trying to stay up, I just got so focused and I wasn’t paying attention and then all of a sudden you were awake and it was morning.”
“Oh, love,” Stede sighs. His chest aches at the thought of Ed being all alone while feeling like this, of Ed thinking that he should be alone while feeling like this, of Ed feeling like this at all.
“I'm sorry,” Ed mumbles, and Stede’s brow furrows as he tries to figure out what Ed could possibly be apologizing for right now.
Stede kisses his temple again, nuzzling the few errant curls that have escaped Ed’s bun. “For what, sweet man?”
“I should've woke you up.” The shame in his voice is palpable, and that just won’t do.
“There's nothing you should've done, my love,” Stede reassures him. He begins soothing down Ed's arms in parallel treks, keeping his touch firm – Ed doesn’t like soft touches, has said on more than one occasion that they make him want to ‘peel his skin off,’ so Stede keeps his movements heavy, weighted, deep. “You always can wake me, yes. Always, Edward.”
Ed catches Stede's hands when they reach his wrists a second time, lacing their fingers together. He presses a kiss to Stede's palm before wrapping their joined arms around himself. Stede squeezes their hands, squeezes Ed's torso. Ed does, for the moment, at least, begin to relax against Stede.
“Would you like to talk about it?” Stede gently coaxes, hoping that maybe if Ed can share what’s on his mind that’s keeping him up, then Stede can begin to help.
Ed pauses, as if contemplating something, before suddenly leaning forward and away from Stede. Stede starts to reach out towards him, not understanding why he’s separating them now, but before he can properly protest, Ed is shuffling himself around to practically straddle him, arms wrapped tight around Stede’s waist while he tucks his face into the crook of Stede’s neck. He takes a moment to settle, repositioning himself until he finally relaxes his weight against Stede. Stede lets his arms rest around Ed, one on his back and one on his head, just holding him close.
Even after settling, Ed doesn’t immediately respond, and Stede’s just about beginning to think that he might’ve actually fallen asleep when Ed draws in a slow, shaky breath.
“I don’t want to die.”
His declaration is soft, murmured against the soft dip in Stede’s collarbone, and Stede’s heart just about launches itself out of his mouth.
“Is that what you were thinking about?” Stede asks, managing to push words past his rapidly tightening throat. Ed nods against him, and Stede has to swallow the emotion threatening to spill over at that.
“I don't – not really, I promise,” Ed slowly continues, pausing as if anticipating Stede's interruption. Stede stays silent, though, continuing his work of gently scratching the nape of Ed's neck while fighting every single instinct of his to interject, fighting his instinct to fix. But they’ve been here before, and Stede, to his absolute displeasure, knows that there isn’t anything about this that he can fix. So he listens.
“But…some days I just feel like – I don't know, like I just wanna lay down and never wake up again.” His voice quivers, breaking on the last syllable, and Stede has to fight back his own visceral wave of emotion that comes flooding to the surface.
“Like the only way I won't feel like…this anymore is if I just lay down and close my eyes and just go.”
Stede isn’t entirely sure he's capable of forming human speech at the moment, overwhelmed just at the mere thought of Ed not being here anymore. It's like ice water’s been poured down his back, the cold dread that curls around Stede’s spine at Ed’s words. He would give anything, do anything, sell his soul a thousand times over so that Edward never felt like that again.
He pulls Ed tighter into their embrace.
“And sometimes I think it'd just be so much easier for everyone else if I just –” and now Stede has to interject at that, entirely uninterested in hearing Ed say what he thinks would be “easier” for everyone, knowing that whatever it is is categorically false.
“Hey,” Stede diverts, lifting a hand to cradle Ed’s head where it rests on his chest. “I love you,” his voice cracks, but he presses on, needing Ed to hear this now. “More than I know what to do with most days, to be honest. You – god, Ed, you’re my best friend, and every day that I get to spend with you is a privilege. You are filled with so much love and creativity and brilliance that it's a little blinding, actually.”
Ed huffs in disbelief, moving as if to disagree, but Stede doesn't give him the room to.
“You are so loved, Edward. By me, by our family, our friends. The world is a better, brighter place with you in it,” Stede insists, needing Ed to hear him now.
Ed draws in a wet, shaky breath, but remains quiet, so Stede presses on.
“I know it hurts, and I know it’s so much harder than most people realize, isn't it?” Ed nods against Stede’s chest. Stede’s more than familiar with these feelings of loneliness, of inadequacy, of despair. And Stede also knows that when he’s in Ed’s place, it feels more than impossible to accept anything but those awful, clawing feelings. But he has to tell Edward anyway, and he’ll gladly repeat himself as many times as he needs until Ed’s able to believe him.
“And I know, my love, that I can’t just say the magic words in the right order to make all of it go away. Believe me, my self-arrogance would be delighted if I could.”
That earns him a shaky laugh, and for the first time this morning, Stede finally sees the clouds parting.
“You may not believe me when I tell you all this, but that's okay, because I can believe it enough for the both of us until you can. Because you, Ed, are worthy of every ounce of love and happiness and peace this world has to give to you.”
Some days Ed can hear Stede’s adoration for what it is, can allow his words to settle deep under his skin until he’s completely enveloped by them. Some days Ed can accept all the love Stede has to give him, unconditionally, internalizing it until he’s practically glowing.
“I – I don’t think that I deserve that,” Ed confesses in a whisper.
And then on other days, many like today, the words just don’t feel right to him. Stede is unfortunately all too familiar with the feeling, having his own frequent negotiations with the love that Ed insists is his to keep. And on those days, when he’s in the position that Ed is now, Stede just knows how difficult it is to sort through it all to find something he can accept.
So Stede changes his approach. He tilts Ed’s face up with a gentle caress, cupping both hands around his cheeks to hold him steady. Ed’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, as if trying to brace himself by avoiding Stede’s own insistent eyes. He waits for them to open again, Ed eventually allowing Stede to have his honeyed gaze. “Can you accept that I do?”
Ed draws in a sharp breath, eyes immediately flooded with a fresh swell of tears. His brow crumples, and his lip quivers, and just as Stede's beginning to think he might have to try something else, Ed allows him a small nod.
“Okay,” he releases in one long exhale, voice wobbling, but agreeing nonetheless. The word is practically drowning as his voice shatters around it, and while it’s not the most convincing he’s ever sounded, Stede will take it. He’ll take whatever Ed can give him, meet him wherever he is, and they can go from there. Together.
“Okay,” Stede echoes, feeling an immediate wave of relief at the acknowledgement. They can work with that. “You don't – you're not alone, Ed. As long as I'm breathing, my love, you're not alone.” It’s not the first time Stede's wished he could just reach into Ed's mind and pluck out all of the sadness, all of the anger and doubt and every little voice that tells Edward he's unworthy.
Instead, Stede carefully brushes away the tears gathering in the corners of Ed’s eyes, pulling him closer to press a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his jaw. “I love you,” Stede whispers between them as if the words are sacred, a vow just for them to know. “With all my heart,” he promises, gently bumping their foreheads together.
“I love you,” Ed returns, sounding all the more confident than he was even moments ago. “I love you.” He pushes forward to press a soft kiss to Stede’s lips.
“I know,” Stede offers his assurance – even on the bad days, the days when everything just seems like it’s caving in on them, when he feels like he’s drowning, Stede’s sure of one thing. And he knows Ed is, too. “I know that.”
Ed kisses him again, then again, before nuzzling his face against Stede’s chest again. Stede shifts them both down until he’s nearly laying flat against the couch, Ed on top of him and clinging to Stede like the octopus he is.
They stay like that for some time, Stede continuing to hold Ed firm as his breathing slowly steadies, the emotions and exhaustion finally seeming to catch up to him.
“Stede?” he eventually asks, voice quiet.
“Yes, love?”
There's a beat. “I'm really fucking tired.”
Stede's laugh is gentle as he presses a kiss to the top of Ed's head. “I have no doubt,” he agrees. “Should we move back to bed, honey?”
Ed shakes his head against Stede's chest, arms around Stede's waist tightening as he burrows his face deeper. “‘M comfy here.”
And Stede is more than amenable to that.
“You're alright love, I'm staying right here,” Stede assures him, dragging his fingertips up and down Ed's back in long, swooping figures.
His husband mumbles something against Stede's chest in the shape of the word “blanket,” so Stede reaches around to tug the blanket back over the both of them, earning an appreciative hum from Ed at his correct interpretation of the request.
They lay there like this in comfortable silence, Ed sprawled out on top of Stede, legs tangled together as Stede's hands continue to soothe. They can stay here like this all day as far as Stede's concerned, absolutely nothing else important enough to interrupt them now.
Ed's breathing continues to steady, becoming slower and slower until his entire body weight relaxes against Stede as he finally falls asleep. Stede continues his soothing motions across Ed's back until he, too, starts to feel that cozy drowsiness settle over him. He eases his head back against the pillow, wrapping his arms around Ed as he, too, closes his eyes.
He’s not going anywhere.