Chapter Text
Stede watches Ed go. Watches him walk away, and feels like Ed’s torn out his heart and is taking it with him. He almost crumbles right there. So very nearly breaks but somehow, against all odds, he holds it together.
He’s practically vibrating with panic as he rushes to his classroom to grab his things and throws them haphazardly into a bag. There’s not many. He’s been discreetly taking stuff home every day this week. Gradually removing his presence from the classroom in the hope that this final day won’t be so painful.
The pain doesn’t even register now. Not alongside the pain of Ed’s expression that seems imprinted at the forefront of his mind.
He manages to shoot off a series of panicky texts to Ed whilst he flits about scooping things up.
Please Ed. Don’t do this.
Let’s talk about it.
Please.
I’m coming over.
The little ticks beside each one remain grey and unread.
Finally, bags gathered and keys in hand, Stede darts for his car. He doesn’t stop to say goodbye to anyone. Doesn’t poke his head into the staffroom. Doesn’t take one last look at any of the spaces that have come to mean so much to him these past months. None of it matters. Only Ed.
He zooms through the streets towards Ed’s apartment. Tries to get his thoughts in order as he drives. Tries to mentally arrange some words together into coherent sentences. Anything that might get Ed to listen. To please give him a chance to explain. To please not turn him away.
Please.
Ed’s bike isn’t in the usual space out front when Stede pulls in. He doesn’t think about what that might mean as he practically skids into his usual visitor spot and stumbles from the car. He takes the stairs two at a time, can’t quite manage three but he tries because he just can’t get there fast enough.
He knocks.
Again.
And again.
And again.
But it’s no use.
Ed’s not there.
*
He returns to Ed’s apartment every day that week, sometimes two or three times a day. Sometimes he sits outside Ed’s door and waits. But Ed’s never there.
He tries to call him but it won’t connect. Those messages he’d sent when Ed had walked away are accompanied by little blue ticks now, but the ones he’s sent since have only one grey tick. When he asks Alma about it she tells him that means his number has been blocked. Then proceeds to badger him about who’s blocked him and what he did to deserve it.
He stops going to Ed’s after that. Recognises that if Ed has blocked his number then he clearly doesn’t want to hear from him. And he can respect that. Or he can try his best too, at least. He just hopes that, given time, Ed will come back to him.
The kids do a wonderful job of distracting him the following week. They visit the aquarium, go to the park and the cinema and Stede keeps pulling out his phone with funny stories and photos he’s snapped at the tips of his fingers, only to realise he hasn’t got anyone to send them to now.
But, then the kids are gone too, and he knows Ed will be back at school and Stede’s life feels hopelessly, miserably empty in a way it hasn’t for a very long time.
*
A couple of weeks into the school term he receives an email from Lucius. Had given all the crew his personal email before he’d left in case they needed anything, wanted his help with university interviews or assignments, or maybe, just a little bit selfishly, so that they might update him with their lives and he would feel a little bit connected to them still.
Lucius asks how he is. He tells him that they all miss him. That it’s not the same without him. And Stede cries. Lets himself cry over how much he cares about those kids. How much he wanted to stay on and see them through their exams. How much he’s lost.
When he replies he tells Lucius it’s very nice of him but he’s sure they’ll do fine. He tells him that he misses them too.
And he asks after Ed.
Lucius replies almost instantly. Is never not on his phone it seems.
He tells Stede that Ed is not good. That it’s like a light has gone out inside him. But that the crew are looking after him, as best they can.
Stede cries some more.
*
After several weeks of wallowing Stede makes a decision. This can’t go on. It’s not healthy.
He respects Ed’s decision, he really does. And Ed has made himself more than clear in his decisive avoidance of Stede. But his time with Ed, what they had together, was so monumental, so entirely and utterly life altering for Stede that he can’t just let it go without one last try.
So he writes Ed a letter. Doesn’t quite know how else to reach him, but also hopes that the physicality of it, the tangible proof of Stede’s feelings in his hands will be harder for Ed to ignore. He chooses his favourite pen, and some of the nicest stationery he’s been saving for god knows what, and he pours his heart onto the page.
Edward,
I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I’m writing this letter anyway, hoping it will reach you. I hope that’s ok.
I made a terrible mistake, I know that. I wish I could go back, not just to undo what I did, but to savour every last moment with you. The sound of your voice. The soft, brush of your hair against my skin. Your smile, the one that crinkles the corners of your eyes, that I think might only be for me. And those eyes. God, Ed, your eyes. Beautiful, depthless pools of light, and love, and life.
Every day we’re apart feels like an eternity. I long for you. We wrote our names on each other that day, and although the ink may not have been permanent, it certainly felt that way to me. I felt it in my soul, intertwined with yours.
I think of you, often, and I hope, one day, you’ll let me apologise to you in person. Because I am sorry, Ed. More sorry than you could ever know. But if it’s too late, I want you to know that I love you, Edward.
I love you.
I think you might be it for me, and I’m all in. If you’ll have me.
Yours, always.
Stede
*
The weeks continue to drip by, heavy and sluggish, like moving through oil.
Stede has a couple of job interviews but he struggles to get excited about any of them. He knows that his performance is distinctly flat but he’s consumed by looking for similarities. Which table in the staff room here would be ‘theirs’? Where is the Art department, and why is it so far from the English one? Who would occupy the classroom opposite Stede’s if he worked here? He finds himself looking for the faces of the crew who are missing from the sea of students before him in the taster lessons.
Stede doesn’t hear back from Ed. He emails back and forth with Lucius a bit, asks how his revision is going, what the situation is with that Izzy character. Whether the crew is all ok.
He stops asking about Ed. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he doesn’t think he can bear to hear. Lucius still finds a way to keep him updated though. The crew have been spending their lunch breaks in Ed’s classroom, he learns. Ed’s promised to still come to the Leavers’ Ball, and apparently he’s letting the crew hunt for the perfect outfit for him.
It sounds like Ed’s doing better.
And Stede tries to be glad for him. To just feel happy for Ed.
But it hurts. It still hurts so much.
The following week Lucius asks if Stede will come to their Leavers’ Ball. Lays it on thick by telling him that he was such an important part of their final year and that the crew would all really like the chance to say a proper goodbye. He doesn’t mention Ed at all. Ed is conspicuous in his absence from the message entirely in fact. Stede tells him he’ll think about it.
*
It’s the day before the Leavers’ Ball when the envelope arrives. It’s a thin, generic office one. Nothing fancy. His address is scrawled on the front in a vaguely familiar hand.
Inside is a single, slightly tatty piece of lined paper covered in what is unmistakably Ed’s writing. Something about it, perhaps the scratched out first attempts, or the slightly unfinished-ness of it makes Stede wonder about it. Maybe Ed had just needed to get the words out and sent away as quickly as possible, unlike Stede who’d spent hours deliberating and editing and fretting over his penmanship.
Stede,
I’m still really angry at you. You had no right to
Stede,
I love you. Probably have since that first moment I saw you.
Stede,
I’m sorry.
I was a dick.
I shouldn’t have run away. Should have let you explain. Should have fucking listened. But, I was hurt. And I was scared. Because, of course I love you. I love you, Stede. So fucking much. It’s fucking terrifying actually. And I know it’s too late. That I’ve fucked it up, as usual. I didn’t think I could have it. I didn’t think all that romance, and softness, and fucking joy was meant for people like me. I’ve never been that kind of person. But, you made me think I could be. You made me want to be.
Fuck, I miss you. So much. I wish you knew. Fuck, I’m not even going to send this letter. How can I when I’ve splattered my heart all over the fucking page like this? I’m not brave like you, Stede. If I was, I’d have told you a long time ago. That I love you. That you make me happier than I ever thought I could be. That I’d give anything to start over.
I’m such a fucking idiot.
Fuck .
Stede crumbles. At some point he must have collapsed onto his sofa, though he doesn’t recall doing so. He curls in on himself, letter clutched to his chest as emotion overwhelms him. Doesn’t quite know if he’s laughing or crying or some weird combination of the two.
Ed loves him.
Present tense.
Loves Stede.
And he’s hurting. God, he’s been hurting this whole time, just like Stede. Hurting and missing him, and filled with regret but not knowing how to fix it.
God, they’re both idiots.
He reads the letter again. And again. And again. Has probably committed it to memory by the time he stops. And then he starts to formulate a plan, because there’s another emotion overriding his system now.
Hope.
*
There’s no longer a question in Stede’s mind about attending the Leavers’ Ball. Not if Ed will be there. Not if it might provide the perfect opportunity to see him. And Stede’s brain is certainly not getting carried away imagining some kind of epic ‘grand gesture’ scene, like those in the romantic movies he’s been watching far too much lately.
He doesn’t have time to shop for something to wear. Doesn’t even really have much time to put a great deal of thought into it, much as he would like to. He simply dives into his wardrobe and rummages for something formal. Eventually settles on a midnight blue, velvet dinner jacket. Pairs it with black trousers that match his lapels and a black roll neck. The combination is far too hot, not sensible for a summer function at all but it’s all he has on hand, and he likes the colour so he’s wearing it.
He shaves, didn’t really realise how long it had been since he last had, and then spends so long fussing with his hair that by the time he calls for a taxi he knows he’s going to be late.
Stede’s inside the hotel for all of three minutes before he’s absolutely mobbed by the crew. They come charging across the dance floor towards him, smiling and cheering and it’s lovely, it really is, but he can’t stop his eyes from darting around the room frantically searching for Ed.
As if the crew had heard his desperate brain, or perhaps they’d just noticed it on his face, they suddenly part before him and there… there’s Ed.
God, he’s a vision.
A vision in peach. A three piece suit, no shirt underneath and the smooth skin of his collarbones, that beautiful hawk tattoo, on show.
He’s never seen Ed in anything like this. Is pretty sure Ed didn’t own anything like this previously, remembering the almost monochromatic state of his wardrobe when Stede had stayed at his place in half term. And it’s that thought that plants the seed of doubt once more.
Ed must be doing better, must be doing great in fact. Is clearly doing so phenomenally well without Stede that he’s braved this whole new, fantastic look. Maybe his letter was cathartic and nothing more. Getting the feelings out so he could move on.
Maybe Stede has made a mistake.
He can’t back out now though. Ed’s standing there looking right back at him, shocked and maybe a little terrified?
Stede tries for a reassuring smile and makes his way towards him, breathes a soft ‘hi’ when he’s finally close enough.
Ed’s mouth moves as though to respond but no sound comes out, so Stede takes the opportunity to look him over once more, trying to commit every detail to memory in case it’s his last chance.
“God, Ed. You look so…” there’s no words. Not a single word in the English language that could possibly do Ed justice, so he settles on “incredible”. Woefully inadequate actually but a tear spills out over Ed’s lashes, nonetheless.
Stede can’t bear it. Remembers the agony of those words in Ed’s letter and feels it echoed in his own chest, the thought of how many tears Ed might have shed in the weeks they’ve been apart. How many tears he’s shed himself. He lifts his hand slowly, giving Ed plenty of time to pull away, and brushes this one away with the backs of his fingers. Another spills out down Ed’s other cheek as he does.
“Oh, Edward,” Stede murmurs, the words escaping on a sigh.
Ed looks about ready to fall apart but Stede is ready now, ready to catch him when he does. Ready to hold him together, hold the both of them, for as long as Ed will let him.
“What are you doing here?” Ed asks, voice choked.
“I wanted to tell you that it’s not too late, Ed.”
“What?”
“Your letter. You said it was too late but it’s not. I’m still…”
“What letter?” Ed interrupts before he can finish this time. Before he can tell Ed what he should have told him months ago.
“Your… it arrived a couple of days ago,” Stede says, pulling out the letter to offer to Ed, crumpled and manhandled as it may be.
“I didn’t…” Ed mutters, clearly confused. Then something like realisation washes over him and he turns suddenly with a growl. “ Fucking Spriggs .”
Stede’s confused now, doubt flooding him again. “Ed, I don’t… Did you not… This is your writing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t fucking send it,” Ed grumbles. He won’t meet Stede’s eye now and Stede understands. Ed doesn’t want him here. He’s ambushed him, forced this in front of all these students, in a way he knows Ed would never want.
“I see,” he says, struggling to keep his voice even. “Should I… I can go… if you’d like?”
Ed’s starting to panic, Stede can see it in his eye and he reaches out without thinking. Wrapping his fingers around Ed’s wrist in what he hopes is reassuring.
“Ed, it’s ok,” he adds softly, even if his heart is breaking all over again. “I’ll go.”
“No,” Ed blurts, that panic showing in his voice too now. He twists his wrist in Stede’s grip and Stede releases him at once, only for Ed to thread their fingers together instead. “Stay.”
“Are you sure?” Stede asks, overwhelmed by the familiar warm press of Ed’s hand in his, this olive branch he's been offered.
Ed nods and Stede can’t help the wide smile that stretches at his cheeks.
Stede’s glances at the dance floor, wondering if it’s too much, too soon.
“I don’t suppose… Would you dance with me, Ed?”
Ed nods again, eyes wide and glistening and full of cautious hope. Stede’s heart is at risk of becoming dangerously full, he thinks, after weeks of the ache in his chest being the only sign that he has one at all.
He leads Ed out onto the floor by their joined hands. Moves right to the centre of the dance floor, before pulling Ed in close to him. He rests his other hand on Ed’s waist, tries not to sob at the familiar curve of it beneath his palm. Tries even harder to swallow the lump in his throat as Ed’s hand slides around his shoulders, fingertips brushing the back of his neck and sending shivers down his spine.
Ed leans in, and Stede presses him in closer with the hand at the small of his back. Their cheeks brush and Stede feels utterly and completely engulfed in Ed. The warmth of his body, the scent of his hair. The tickle of his breath in the hair behind Stede’s ear. There’s that ‘completeness’ again, he realises. That sense of wholeness that’s been absent for weeks and weeks.
God, his heart is swelling almost painfully and he thinks he might be content to spend the entirety of the remainder of his life just standing here swaying gently with Ed in his arms. Wonders what sort of excuses, reasons maybe, that he could dream up to dance with Ed every day from here on out.
“Ed,” Stede murmurs, loath to break this moment but needing to clear the air between them all the same. “I meant everything I said in my letter.”
“Me too.”
“Even though you didn’t mean for me to read it?”
“Stede, that’s why I didn’t want you to read it.”
“Oh Ed,” he sighs, shaking his head softly. “I rather think we’re both idiots.”
“Probably,” Ed agrees.
“But… I really want to try, Ed. If you’d like. I really do.”
God, Stede hopes. He hopes, and hopes and hopes.
“Me too,” Ed says again, and then, as if it couldn’t get any better he says “I love you, Stede. I love you.”
“I know,” Stede thinks he might be crying now, silently tears slipping down his cheeks. “I know that.”
“Ed,” Stede breathes when he can finally get the words out through the tightness in his throat. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss you more than I do right now, but I do realise that you are essentially at work and it’d probably be fairly unprofessional.”
“Nah, I quit,” Ed says.
“What?” Stede pulls back to look at him incredulously.
“Yep, three weeks and I’m gone.”
“Really?”
“Mmhmm,: Ed nods.
“Well,” he says, because he honestly can’t think of a reason not too. Could probably persuade himself to do anything right now. “Don’t think we’re not circling back to this, but… I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s ok with you?”
Ed grins, clearly recognising the callback to that first time in his office, all those months ago.
“Yeah. Yes, please.”
Stede thinks back on that first kiss as he leans in, presses his lips to Ed’s in the same, soft, careful way that Ed did with him, breath wavering just a little at the sensation. Another tear spills out, thankfully unnoticed as a chorus of cheers and whistles ring out around them and Ed pulls away.
“Fucksake,” Ed groans, though Stede can hear the smile on his face as he presses his forehead against Stede’s shoulder.
“Should probably have thought about that,” Stede offers a little ruefully. “Still, maybe let them have their moment. They did basically gift wrap you for me.”
“What?” Ed asks, leaning back so he can raise a questioning eyebrow at Stede.
“This suit, Ed,” Stede says, lifting his fingertips to the hawk tattoo across his collarbones and letting them dance across it. “Lucius told me I wouldn’t want to miss the suit they’d helped you pick out. You look…” There’s still no words sufficient to describe just how incredibly beautiful Ed is. Someone should really get on that.
“You look pretty unwrappable yourself,” Ed says, and, Jesus, his voice has gone all low and heated, dripping down Stede’s spine like hot honey. He’s lost count of how many times he’s heard that voice in his dreams these past months, only to wake up practically panting to find himself cold and alone.
Two can play at that game though. Stede leans in, dipping his fingers just inside Ed’s jacket, letting his knuckles brush down his sternum. “Maybe I’ll let you take me home and you can play with what’s inside,“ he breathes against the shell of Ed’s ear, relishing the little shiver he feels run through him.
“Fuck yes,” Ed murmurs. “You ready to go?”
“Maybe let’s at least have a drink first,” Stede chuckles. He’s turning Ed to steer him back off the dance floor when he spots an angry blur moving towards them in his periphs. It’s a reflex to snake his arm around Ed’s front, holding him back against him with a palm to his chest as that Izzy? Iggy? Whatever. As he stomps past.
“Oh dear,” Stede mutters when he realises where he’s headed. Stede thinks he might actually be holding his breath as he watches Iggy strides right up to Lucius, getting right in his face and looking quite simply furious. Until quite suddenly he’s not. Lucius is pulling him in and kissing him soundly and Iggy melts into it with obvious relief.
“What the fuck is happening?” Ed mutters.
So Stede makes quick work of explaining what he knows of the situation, as relayed to him through Lucius; that they’d had something of a fling over Christmas but that Iggy had been struggling with it once returning to school and surrounded again by his rather toxic friends.
“Stede,” Ed starts, and once Stede meets his gaze he says “you’re a fucking incredible teacher, mate.”
“Oh, well that’s…” Stede blusters, overcome by the sudden warmth spreading through him. “Thank you, Ed.”
“I fucking love you,” Ed says, grinning at him and doing that thing with his eyes again, making them all comically large and lovestruck.
“I love you too, Ed.”
“You still want that drink?”
“No, not really.”
“Me neither.”
“Take me home, Ed,” Stede offers as suggestively as possible and then Ed’s off, fastening a spare helmet on Stede's head and climbing onto his bike. Stede climbs on behind him, not sure if his trembling is from his excitement or his apprehension. He clutches tightly to Ed, arms wrapped securely around his waist. And then, oh. Goodness. The bike is roaring to life beneath them and Stede’s grip on Ed tightens and suddenly they’re off.
Stede thinks back to that very first day in the staffroom. How Ed had offered to take him out on the bike back then. How they’d laughed over Stede’s slightly ridiculous post-divorce Nessie hunt.
“Ed!” Stede shouts, trying to get his mouth as close to Ed’s ear as possible to be heard over the bike. “Do you think we’ll see a Sasquatch on the way home?”