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Edward knew he had anxiety. He knew he could get paranoid and irrational but that many of his worries weren’t as dire as he believed, or weren’t even real. He was aware of that. Knowing about it did very little to combat it, though, when his brain would warp reality and cause him to obsessively analyze every little thing and use it as proof that he had every reason to freak out.
It was a tiring existence.
It absolutely did not help that he was dating someone who did so many things that could be misconstrued. Jonathan Crane was not the most affectionate man in Gotham, and he certainly wasn’t the most sociable. He was kinder to Edward than he was to just about everyone else, but he could still come off as cold and detached without even meaning to or realizing it.
Jon had a very nasty case of resting bitch face, and it kicked Edward’s anxiety into overdrive.
It was so easy to think Jon was angry with him. So easy to think he was annoyed or exasperated or bored or that he was thinking any number of awful things about him. Jon could be holding Edward and stroking his hair lovingly, and Edward would still read the slightest sigh as Jon being tired of being laid on. He could be pressing Edward against a wall and kissing him breathless, and Ed would still think Jon was begrudgingly humouring him. Sometimes, Edward could ignore these anxieties, knowing by now that he was reading too far into Jon’s quiet nature.
But sometimes, especially if Jon was feeling more withdrawn at the same time that Ed was having a bad night, things could escalate horribly.
He was hiding. Maybe it was childish, but he didn’t want Jonathan to know how upset he was. He didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. The argument hadn’t even been all that bad... Did it even count as an argument? But the way Jon had sighed harshly and turned away, shaking his head in something like disappointment, like he had no idea why he bothered... Edward had already been having a bad night, anxiety-wise, and it was all too easy for his brain to take the mild, completely normal disagreements that every couple faces and turn them into the end of everything.
Jon would leave. He was sure of it. If Jon came into their bedroom it would only be to pack a bag, if he hadn’t stormed out already. Or Jon would come into their room to tell Edward exactly what he thought of him, really let him have it. Or maybe Jon would kill him. That would be more of a mercy. Regardless of what Jon decided to do, it was painfully clear that he was done with Edward. That he was furious and hated the petty bastard more than words could express.
Ed couldn’t even fault him for it. Who could ever love someone as insufferable as him? Hell, no one could even tolerate him. Jon had tried, and it had been a valiant effort, but in the end Edward’s flaws outweighed Jon’s patience. So, that was why Edward was sobbing under the covers of their bed. He was about to be single or dead, the man he loved hated him, and he ruined everything that could possibly bring happiness to him.
When there was a soft knock at the bedroom door, he froze. He didn’t know what to do. The door opened quietly. Edward held his breath. If he breathed, that breath would shake or a sob would escape. Then the jig would be up. There was the sound of someone undressing, then the bed dipped as Jon laid down beside him. That confused Edward for a second, until he realized Jon was likely going to ignore him and then leave tomorrow.
That hypothesis was also dismantled, however, when Jon turned and wrapped an arm around him, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck. Ed could not hold his breath any longer. He exhaled shakily. A sob escaped. Jon tensed behind him.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Now he was in trouble. Now he was really in for it. If Jon wasn’t angry before then he would be now, and if he wasn’t going to leave before then Edward had just made the decision for him. Who would want to stay with someone who freaked out so easily? Who would want to deal with so much baggage? Jon sat up. Edward felt sick.
“...Ed? Are you crying?”
“...No.” He whimpered, hating how holding in his tears just made his body shake noticeably.
“Are you...? Well, clearly you’re not okay but- What’s wrong?” A gentle hand laid on Edward’s shoulder over the blanket, and he could restrain himself no longer as he began to cry in earnest. Jon took a deep breath. Edward was certain it was an attempt to gather patience where there was none.
“I’m sorry-” He managed, a very old habit. Apologizing never helped when he’d been going through the things that originally gave him these issues, but the reaction had been ingrained in him all the same. A desperate attempt to curb anger. “I’m sorry...”
“Sorry? Edward, you’ve done nothing wrong.” When there was no intelligible reply to that, he continued softly. “Darling, please look at me.”
God. What was Jon’s deal with “looking at people when you talk to them?” Was it a Southern thing? Hesitant, but unwilling to cause more trouble, Edward turned and peeked out from under the blanket.
“C’mon now. Sit up ‘n talk to me.” He was using the voice Ed liked, the one that calmed him down. Low, quiet, gentle, bit of a thicker accent. Sure way to bring Edward down from a panic. He did as he was told, folded his legs up and rested his chin on his knees, wrapped his arms around himself. “What’s goin’ on?”
“... Are you mad at me?” God, he sounded pathetic. How could anyone ever put up with him? Jon looked absolutely taken aback.
“Mad at you? No, why would I- Edward.” His brows drew together in concern. To Ed it just looked like irritation. “Have you been in here all this time, upset because you thought I was angry? Just because we disagreed on book organization?”
“...Yeah?” Wasn't that obvious? Wasn't that reasonable?
“Edward, I can disagree with you without being mad at you. I... If I’d known you thought- If I had known you were-” He stumble on his words for a moment before settling on what to say. Comforting people wasn’t exactly the Scarecrows specialty. “... I wouldn’t have just left you here to feel awful.” He lifted a hand to Edward’s hair, running his fingers through it simply because he knew Ed loved that.
“... You don’t have to do this.” So quiet it almost wasn’t audible. The words were enough to make Jon’s hand freeze.
“Come again?”
Ed wiped his eyes, trying to get a hold of himself.
“You don’t have to stay. If you want to go- if you don’t want to do this anymore-”
“Edward... What on earth are you talking about?”
“I just- I- You must- You have to hate me. Or at least dislike me-”
“What?” He sounded absolutely appalled at the suggestion, dropping his hand completely. His tone was enough to make Edward sit up straight, confused. “Edward, I- “ He laughed in disbelief, no real humour in it, shaking his head at a loss. “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?”
Edward just stared at him for a moment, mouth agape, eyes wide.
“...Well, because... How could you be?”
Jon jerked a bit, as if startled. His expression quickly went from confused to absolutely heartbroken. It occurred to Edward in that moment that perhaps he had missed the mark on this one.
“... Oh Edward.” He took Edward’s face in his hands with a tenderness that did not at all come naturally to him, brushing one hand back through his boyfriends hair while the other wiped the remainder of his tears. “Edward. Darlin’... I’m sorry.”
“You- what?”
“I’m sorry. I’m a- well, I was a psychiatrist. I should... I should notice when you’re having a bad night. I shouldn’t have left you to spiral like this. I’m sorry.” Edward had no answer for that. That was fine, because Jon wasn’t finished. “I love you. I do, truly, and I will do more to make sure you know that.”
Edward opened his mouth to say he didn’t have to, that it was his own issues and nothing Jon had done wrong, but the words caught in his throat as tears returned to his eyes. Overwhelmed, he threw his arms around his lovers neck and hid his face against his skin. Long arms wrapped around him immediately to hold him tight, and Edward had no idea how to cope with this.
How could anyone handle being loved?