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When Ed and Stede returned to the bunk they’d shared with their campers all summer—empty now, and unsettlingly clean—after the end-of-summer campfire with the hint that “it would be best to turn in early, as you all have an early start in the morning,” there was an awkward sort of silence as they took in the lonely state of the main room.
Stede slumped onto one of the now-empty beds, and Ed disappeared into the room they shared as counselors, returning with a water bottle that he passed over to Stede as he took the bed opposite him.
“What do you think you’re going to miss the most after tomorrow?” Stede asked. He took a long swig from his water bottle before sputtering. “What is this?”
“Right,” Ed said, looking thoughtfully at his water bottle. “Trade with me—I knew I spiked a few, but I lost track of the bottles.” They each had three, and they had gotten comfortable enough to share them back and forth with one another. Showering with little more privacy than a strip of contact paper on the door for ten weeks did that to a person.
Stede raised an eyebrow and took another drink before passing it over. “Just surprised. It’s not bad.”
He passed the bottle back to Ed, who took a long pull and let out a refreshed sigh. “It is tequila with some seltzer and lime juice. Seltzer’s gone a bit flat, and obviously we don’t have a fridge in the bunk, but it’s better than having nothing to celebrate with on the last night of camp, right?”
Stede agreed and reached out his hand for the bottle again. “Does that mean this has been in the bunk since we got here in June?” He wrinkled his nose but drank greedily regardless.
“Put it up in the attic with the trunks once unpacking ended,” Ed explained. “It was only down with the campers for, like, three days, and even then I kept it very well hidden. Even from Pete. Didn’t know if you’d be cool then.”
Which was fair—Stede had arrived to summer camp with neatly pressed khaki trousers that he had initially intended to wear as a part of his uniform. The first signs of irreparable grass stains had been enough that he’d finally taken Ed up on his offer to borrow basketball shorts until he could get to Wal-Mart, the only option in town, to purchase his own.
Unpacking felt like it had been a year ago; that’s how camp time worked, as Stede had learned through the course of the summer. An hour at camp was a day, a day was a week, a week was a month, and a month was a year. That was just how things were, not that Stede was complaining. It made him feel like he and Ed had lived a whole life together. They’d met when they’d been assigned as co-counselors earlier in the summer, and it felt like he and Ed had just been Dad friends all summer (and much less shit about it than their own fathers were). Now, Stede’s heart ached to look around the empty bunk, devoid of campers and the noise of all of the boys they’d lived with and cared for during the summer.
Going through the trunks and putting their campers’ belongings away was the first time they’d gotten a sense of who the boys were. Ed had groaned when Stede had shown him Frenchie’s recorder and his parents’ instructions that he practice on it daily to keep up with his lessons at home. Likewise, Stede had sighed when Ed had shown off some of Izzy’s casual clothes as he folded—all distressed jeans, combat boots, and heavy metal t-shirts. The fact that Izzy had insisted on pretending he had a facial tattoo all summer was not at all surprising based on the contents of his trunk, which had been lovingly laundered, folded, and packed by some family member or other who wanted him to have a great summer.
Repacking the trunks was a long process that started with the cleaning of the bunks for the end of the summer. Buttons had tried to speed up the process by trying to hide a good deal of his mess under the thin mattress of his cot so that they could get the trunks out of the attic sooner. Spanish Jackie, however, had been the one assigned to inspect the bunk for cleanliness, and she’d caught onto him right quick, snorting as she turned the mattress up to reveal candy wrappers, dirty clothes, old magazines, letters and emails from home, and at least three crushed cans of Mountain Dew.
His trickery discovered, Stede had offered to help him sort through the debris to figure out what, if anything, was worth keeping as Jackie supervised from the porch.
“Honestly,” she murmured, leaning over to Ed, “he’s made a lot of progress since last summer. He tried to hex me when he pulled this one last year, and we didn’t have any raccoon invasions this year either.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Ed had replied quickly. “We’ve got two more days. Besides, Roach was the candy smuggler this summer. You wouldn’t believe how much we found in his pillowcase after Visiting Day when we did the big clean-out.”
Two days had been quicker than Stede could have imagined.
Ed giggled, and Stede came back to himself. “You okay?” he asked, looking askance at Ed as he slumped against Roach and Swede’s empty bunk beds.
“My tolerance always goes to shit after the summer, mate,” Ed explained. “It’s been a while. I hate having anything on a night off, just in case something happens back here, you know? Bit paranoid, but…” He trailed off and shrugged.
“I get it,” Stede said. “Remember when we found Wee John trying to start up a campfire on the porch?”
Ed chuckled. “A few drinks and I’d’ve probably joined him.”
They were well on their way to finishing the first spiked bottle, but Ed was prepared. “I made more than enough for both of us,” he said shyly.
“I didn’t realize,” Stede said, blushing a bit. “I feel like I should have had something ready for you too. Well, aside from your bus note.”
“Plane note,” Ed said wistfully. “Long fucking flight.”
“It’s a long fucking note. And you’d better not read it till you’re on the plane.” Stede gave Ed his counselor-face, and Ed rolled his eyes.
Ed was probably his best friend. They’d lived together for more than two months. It was Ed who had first encouraged him to start reading bedtime stories for the boys once he’d heard how good Stede was at the voices, and Ed who had taken him for his first kayaking trip around the lake. And hadn’t Stede been there when Ed had broken down one night on the porch and told him everything about his miserable childhood—secrets he’d sworn he’d never told another soul? Izzy had been in remarkable form that night, having a teenager’s talent for spotting adult weak spots, and Ed had shouted him down so thoroughly that the entire bunk of boys had taken Izzy’s side for once that summer, even with the horrible thing Izzy had said to set the whole thing off. Ivan and Fang crowded Izzy protectively onto his bunk, Stede had run damage control with the other boys, getting them into bed and reading them a story as they drifted off, and Ed had fled to the porch.
Stede found him in tears outside. He offered Ed a water bottle (it was really water that time), and Ed shuddered as he drank from it.
“They hate me,” Ed said. “I’d hate me, too.”
“No one hates you, Ed,” Stede said. “It’s a rough patch is all—nothing’s happening on camp, and everyone’s on edge, and you both just cracked under it all. For all we know, that’s just how Izzy hears adults talking at home.”
“I sounded like my dad.” Ed didn’t seem to be listening, so Stede did. “Dad would always shout like that at Mom and me. Worse, usually.” Ed pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt to show him a circular burn. “When I was, like, six or seven, maybe? He’d been hitting Mom.”
“Ed,” Stede whispered. He wanted to reach out and wrap Ed in his arms—stroke his hair, murmur sweetness in his ear, wipe the tears from his face.
Ed looked up at him with shining eyes and a wet face, and Stede’s heart clenched. “I threatened him out of the house.” His eyes went dark. “I told him I’d kill him if he ever came back, and I was enough that he believed me. Mom doesn’t know—I never told her.”
He paused, reaching for Stede’s hands and nuzzling his face against them. “Never told anyone that.”
“And you know I won’t either,” Stede said. “What Izzy said brought up a lot for you, I think. I wonder if—he idolizes you, after all—if he’s struggling with it, too.”
Ed looked thoughtful and began stroking one of Stede’s hands with his thumb, almost absentmindedly. “Right, mate,” he said. “And you—you have Mary. It’s not that you don’t understand, just—”
“Yeah,” Stede nodded. “Not something I have to think about if I don’t want to.” His entire world had narrowed to the place where Ed’s thumb moved back and forth.
Ed’s eyes were on his, Stede saw. He could feel himself flushing again as Ed squeezed his hand and then released it. “What’s that we always say, mate?”
Stede closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he did something he might regret. “We talk it through as a crew.”
There was, perhaps, more that needed talking through than he had previously realized.
“I’ll see if Izzy’s still up so I can apologize. Might also see about pulling him from one of his activities for an hour with me at the lake, maybe, if he wants. He’s got baseball tomorrow, and I know he hates it.” Ed got up to go back into the bunk. “You coming?”
Stede nodded. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “Do you mind covering for me for a bit, though? I have a quick call I have to make. My phone’s down in the staff lockers.”
“No problem,” Ed said, giving him a light punch on the arm. “Say hi to Mary for me, yeah?”
Stede sighed when the door slammed behind him. He did not say hi to Mary for Ed, although she knew perfectly well who he was, having Facetimed Stede and Ed together once they’d gotten their bunk assignments. Instead, he left her a short brief voicemail in which he came out, apologized profusely, and ended things between them. They’d met for a coffee a few days later when he had the day off, and after he’d told her everything he could, she’d smiled and told him how happy she was for him.
Ed’s eyes when Stede had told him he’d ended things with her had been soft and dark and so full of something Stede couldn’t identify. That was the first night they’d squeezed themselves into one of the single beds in their shared room.
“I’m so sorry, mate,” he’d said. Ed had motioned for Stede to join him on the bed, sliding over as if there would ever be enough space for both of them to lay comfortably.
“It wasn’t a surprise in the way I’d have thought,” Stede said. He leaned his head on Ed’s shoulder. “Just time to end things, I suppose.”
Ed guffawed. “The same Mary you were talking about marrying when you arrived?”
“Our parents felt more strongly about it than we did,” Stede protested. He pretended he was cold so that he could snuggle more deeply into the warm body next to his. “Circumstances changed for me, that’s all.”
“Circumstances,” Ed scoffed, tangling himself around Stede. “Missed you today,” he murmured into Stede’s neck.
“Just a day off,” Stede replied. He felt frozen in place and entirely unsure of how to react to such easy affection, especially as he only just began poking his head out of a closet Ed had no idea he was in.
“A week in camp time,” Ed countered. “And tomorrow’s mine, so that’s two weeks.”
“Wish we could have had them together,” Stede said wistfully, “but we couldn’t be co-counselors if we did.”
“Don’t go talking logic,” Ed growled. “Just relax. For once.”
And Stede smiled softly and said, “Okay,” closing his eyes and feeling Ed’s hand trace a path up and down his spine.
When reveille went off in the morning, Stede and Ed had still been entangled on Ed’s bed in their room in the bunk. The door was open, and the first thing Stede saw was Lucius standing agog in the doorway with his hands over his face. “This is happening,” he stage whispered, poking his head in to observe the whole scene, eyes wide. Stede had more or less leapt out of the bed, making the whole thing look a good deal worse than it was.
"Say a word and I end you,” Ed said, turning over and shoving his head under a pillow.
“What’s all that about?” Stede asked, but Ed let out a gentle snore and Stede had shrugged to carry on with his morning.
That had been nearly a month ago, and they’d taken to sharing a bed before days off. Eight nights he’d spent with Ed wrapped around him, arms and legs and blankets twisted between them. It had been bittersweet, at best—Stede’s heart soared when Ed nuzzled himself more deeply into his neck as he fell asleep. But there was the truth of Stede’s feelings for Ed lying somewhere between them, and the end of the summer hung over his head like the Sword of Damocles.
And now it was here.
Tomorrow, Stede would get in his car and go back home to a family who didn’t know that he’d broken it off with Mary, an accounting major he hated, and a life without Ed or the campers who’d all somehow become his family in two months. Ed would be an ocean or so away and enough hours ahead that he couldn’t think how hard it would be to schedule phone calls or video chats if that would even be a thing that would happen once they were away from camp and Ed went back to his life back home. He hated thinking about home, and he’d done everything he could to avoid talking about home with Ed. It had been enough to let Ed form his own opinions and assumptions, and bringing all the rest into it—the bullying, the repression, the feeling that he could never be enough if he were himself—would ruin the weird little paradise they’d built with each other in their cabin.
Stede could feel his eyes welling up and the warmth draining out of him as he held out his hand for the bottle and took a longer sip than was fair.
Ed chuckled for a moment, watching him intently with one eyebrow raised. “Should I make more? I have the rest of the tequila, obviously, but we’ll have to make do with still water or whatever sodas the boys left in the vending machine by the laundry.”
Stede shrugged. He didn’t trust himself to talk.
“Mate, I’m sorry,” Ed said, his face crumbling as he scooted over towards Stede. “I let the mood slip, talking about that night with Izzy and all, didn’t I? I was just—just so fucking grateful. Summer wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
He reached for Stede, who leaned into his side like he was made to be there. Ed’s arm curled over his shoulders and his hand rubbed Stede’s arm.
Stede could feel himself tremble as he took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut to spare himself the tears. He curled in on himself, drawing his knees to his chest and leaning his forehead against them. “It’s not that,” he mumbled into his legs. “Just thinking about tomorrow. And the kids, I guess,” he added quickly. He didn’t want to say how much he was thinking about Ed.
Ed gave him a squeeze. “How lucky we are to have something that makes saying good-bye so hard,” he mused.
“That’s from Winnie the Pooh,” Stede said, lifting his head up. He’d never have expected Ed to quote Winnie the Pooh, especially after the first impression Ed had made back in June—honestly, who brought leather trousers to a summer camp?—and Stede found himself so charmed by the thought of it.
“First of all, everyone at summer camp uses that in their social media,” Ed said, rolling his eyes, “and second, I loved that fucking bear when I was a kid, and I will not be taking any more questions.”
“Didn’t ask one. More of a comment.”
“You can be sappy or sassy, not both,” Ed said. “Pick a mood already.” He nudged an elbow into Stede’s sides, and there was a moment Stede could feel himself wanting to take the bait, but he just couldn’t.
“I—um,” Stede said, standing unsteadily. “I have to go make sure I’m packed. Have to get an early start and all.”
He could feel Ed watching him as he took the now-empty water bottle he was holding to the bathroom sink (so many of the boys had refused to use it, even though it was absolutely the same water as was in the water fountain outside of the bunk) to fill it before going into the room they’d share for one more night.
Stede looked half-heartedly at his suitcase, clothing neatly folded even though he knew he’d throw it all in the laundry when he got home. He considered the neat t-shirt, jeans, and slip-ons he’d pulled out for the drive home tomorrow and he still found them acceptable for the good-byes he’d have to say and the long drive back to a life he didn’t want. He briefly considered preparing himself for bed with a long shower and his skin regimen (toned down to allow for the practicalities of camp, and perhaps the only thing he looked forward to resuming after the summer ended), but he discarded that because he distinctly felt cowardly about having to see Ed again. The fact that Ed would eventually return to the room was just a bridge he’d burn when he got to it.
He plopped himself on his bed, pulled out his phone to open Instagram, and immediately found scrolling a useless distraction. Stede drank some of the water as he looked for something to take his mind away from every thought swirling around it. His phone hadn’t helped, his journal would just force him to write it all down, and he wasn’t in the mood for Don Quixote. He fell back on the bed to look up at the ceiling. Now he could feel the tequila swirling in his head amidst the rest of the chaos.
The door clicked open, and Stede picked his head up to see Ed standing in the doorway, somehow looking smaller and more timid that Stede had ever seen him.
“Can I come in, mate?”
Stede met his eyes and nodded. “It’s your room, too.”
“I know, it’s just—”
Ed sat on his bed across from Stede, sighing. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay. The last night’s just a fucking slap in the face, and I know how hard it is, and I—I care about you.”
Stede sat up.
“Working with you this summer,” Ed continued, “and being your friend—you make me happy.”
“You make Stede happy,” Stede said, not quite a whisper but not in a voice he recognized.
There was some change in the room that he couldn’t put a finger on. Maybe it would have been easier if they’d been entirely sober or if they’d been closer together, but it was something Stede still couldn’t parse out, even with Ed looking at him with those soft, dark eyes.
“I’m honestly relieved to hear that right now, mate—” Ed was talking quickly—“because I want you to know that we’ll absolutely keep in touch during the year, and it’s not so long till next summer, and we can either try to be co-counselors again or we can try to move up to leadership or maybe get time off together or something. It’s gonna be okay—I mean, it’s not gonna be just like here, but we’ll still be friends.”
Ed was looking at his water bottle with incredible determination. “I feel like I’m rambling,” he murmured.
Stede felt how hard it was to pull his eyes away from Ed. “Nothing wrong with that,” he said. “I just didn’t want to ruin the fun. The drinks were great, and I’m so glad we have the extra night. It’s—I don’t know, I really am sorry. I just—I run away, I guess,” he said weakly. Stede shook his head and met Ed’s eyes, still soft and warm and dark. “Maybe we should just stop talking.”
When Stede was next aware of his body, Ed’s hands were cradling his face and his lips were on Stede’s. Stede was gasping with the surprise of it all—Ed had literally taken his breath away—and he swooned as Ed took advantage of the opportunity his open mouth presented.
It was all so much at once, and Stede had to pull his lips away from Ed’s to bury his face in his neck and breathe. Let his mind catch up to what was happening to his body and in his heart. Ed continuing to press kisses into his neck and his shoulder was simply unhelpful and utterly delightful. Ed’s fingers were curling through the hair at the nape of Stede’s neck, pulling just enough to urge Stede to meet his gaze again.
He looked at Stede in wonderment, gaze flicking between eyes and mouth. “Stede,” he breathed.
And as much as part of Stede roared that the how and the why of what was happening did not matter as much as it continuing—they only had tonight—but he still had to know.
He brought one hand up to cup Ed’s jaw, stroking the short beard he’d been admiring all summer. “What’s happening, Ed?”
“Stopped talking, like you said.”
Stede brushed his lips over Ed’s neck, grinning. “Hate to tell you, darling,” he said, “but I really was thinking of companionable silence. I never thought—”
“Stede,” Ed interrupted, “why else would I sleep in a twin bed with you? I’ve been head over heels since you tried on my leathers and I wore that ridiculous suit you brought, and I didn’t know how to fold the little handkerchief—”
Stede’s smile was soft. “You wear fine things well,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” Ed replied. “That.” His eyes were shining. “You can’t imagine how disappointed I was when you mentioned that you were basically engaged.”
Stede blushed. “Remember when I said Mary and I had broken up because circumstances had changed?” He pulled Ed’s ear to his mouth, nipping at his earlobe. “You were the circumstances, darling.”
Ed whimpered, his hips grinding into Stede’s. “I wish I knew,” he murmured. “Could’ve had more time.”
Stede had to laugh. “Not with the campers here,” he said. “Could you imagine if they knew?”
“They did know.”
“What do you mean?”
“That first morning, when Lucius—”
Stede sunk his head down into Ed’s neck, embarrassed. “That’s what he meant when he said, ‘This is happening.’” He began biting gently at Ed’s neck to console himself.
Ed tilted his head for Stede to have better access. “That would be it, mate.”
Stede dragged Ed’s mouth to his, and it was enough to make Ed groan. “Before we get too carried away, though, love,” Ed said shyly, “and we are very much picking up from here, let’s do a bit of rearranging for tonight. Make it nice.”
Stede nodded, regretting his assent immediately when Ed withdrew and began pulling his bed closer to Stede’s. It was like losing an anchor, like he couldn’t be sure that he and Ed had really kissed unless Stede had Ed’s hand in his.
Stede rushed into the other room to grab a few of the mattresses to hide the gap between the twin bed frames as best they could with the thin padding. He moved their bedding to remake the bed properly, Ed watching at first with fondness before stepping in to follow Stede’s directions.
Their eyes met over the remade bed—“It’s a two-man job, darling,” Stede had said cheerfully as though he was not painfully infatuated with the man he shared the room with—and Stede’s mouth watered as Ed strode purposefully across the room to stand before him. Ed’s hands went to his bum as his mouth went to Stede’s ear. “Be ready to wrap your legs around my waist.”
Ed lifted Stede easily, pressing him back into the wall of the bunk. “Not the bed?” Stede asked, lifting his hips to meet Ed’s.
“Special occasion, love,” Ed replied. “I’ve got plans for this.” He bent his head to Stede’s chest to nip at his skin through the fabric. “Should have taken this off already,” he said ruefully.
Stede was squirming in Ed’s grasp. “Please, Ed, darling. Put me down and I’ll—”
“Ah, no, love. You’re not walking anywhere tonight,” Ed said roughly. He strengthened his grip on Stede before turning them both to the bed, gently tossing Stede to its center and following him there.
Losing himself in Ed was easy—the decadence with which Ed kissed him, the sounds Ed made when Stede’s hands roamed his body, the slide of skin against skin. Ed was like gravity that kept him tethered and safe; he’d be lost if Ed stopped touching him, kissing him. How could he lose Ed’s touch in the morning, or say good-bye to him for more than the hours between morning reveille and lunch? The specter of absence spurred them toward each other, and they held tightly with hands and mouths and tangled limbs.
Of course he felt tears pricking at his eyes as he gazed into Ed, so gentle and vulnerable and close. And Ed cried too, cupping Stede’s cheek in one hand and pressing his face to the other side. Stede kissed away every tear as best he could, trying to convey just how deeply he would miss Ed when the morning came.
When they fell asleep, Ed and Stede had pulled themselves together tightly enough that pushing the beds together was a waste of the time they had. Stede hadn’t wanted to, but Ed insisted. “You have to drive, love,” he said softly. “I get on a plane for a million fucking hours. You’re the one who has to get home safe.”
There is no safety at home, not for him. Stede didn’t know how to say it without it being a whole thing, so he burrowed into Ed, nestled into his chest.
Ed’s alarm went off at the ass crack of dawn, as he put it. They tried to snooze once, then twice, but eventually Stede forced Ed awake and into an unfortunately small shower. Stede managed to be ready and fully packed by the time Ed emerged, groggy and grateful to see that Stede had put the room back as it was meant to be.
“Do you have everything?” Stede asked quietly as Ed squashed his bag closed.
“Yeah, mate,” he replied, and Stede’s heart tugged at the word. He missed being called ‘love’ already. Ed stood, bag in hand and backpack on his back. “I have this for you. I lied when I said I forgot your bus note—I wrote it in case…” He trailed off, grinning before he pressed a kiss to Stede’s cheek. “I want you to have it anyway.”
Stede squeezed his hand. “Can I walk you to the bus?”
“I’d love that.” Ed sounded shy, but he twisted their fingers together.
The bus was idling in front of the dining hall. Stede, anxiety spiking and a lump in his throat, stepped back to allow Ed to store his luggage. He felt ashen pale watching Ed prepare to leave him for a year, assuming they could both come back to camp.
Ed smiled weakly when he returned to face Stede. He butted his head into Stede’s shoulder as Stede’s arms circled his waist, and his fingers found the curls at the nape of Stede’s neck. “Text me when you get home safe, okay?” Ed murmured. “I’ll be here for a bit in the airport and I know I’ll miss you by then.”
“Yeah,” Stede choked. “Course I will. You have to do the same, of course, and send photos and all.”
Ed was nodding when Stede brought their lips together again. The last kiss had to come eventually.
“Get yourself a good seat, darling. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can,” Stede said, stepping back from Ed gently to take his hands again. “I’ll wait here until the bus goes, I promise.”
“Thanks,” Ed said, stealing just one more kiss before he stepped back, turned on his heel, and got on the bus.
He found a window seat where Stede could still see him. Stede watched Ed sit, wave timidly from the window, then brush at his eyes as he turned away.
Stede ignored his own swell of emotions to pull out his phone. He kept his eyes on Ed as he reached for his phone, grinned, and picked up. “Hey, you. I said I’d call you as soon as I could.”
Ed chuckled. “Thanks, love. You must have known I already missed you.”
“We’re in the same time zone for now, might as well enjoy it.”
Ed groaned. “What’s the difference between New York and Aotearoa?”
“We’ll do the math later, darling,” Stede said. “We’ll text, obviously, and we can call or video—I’ll want to see you.”
“Would you visit?” Ed asked quietly.
“I have a long break between November and January,” Stede replied. “And I could use a vacation, I think.”
The bus doors closed, and Ed, stricken, met his eyes from the bus.
“This is it,” Ed said, his voice finally starting to shake. “I miss you.”
“I miss you as well.” Stede watched the bus pull away and blew Ed a kiss, which was enough to make Ed smile. “How lucky I am, darling.”
“Safe home, love,” Ed said. “Call me. I’ll be waiting for it.”