Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a red envelope inside the mailbox today.

Eddie Dear shielded his eyes from the sun as he took a step out of the post office, greeted by the smell of the sweet cinnamon air. Rays glared through gaps in the yellowing trees, following him closely as he moved to unlock the door of the post box. To his surprise, sitting at the top of the stack of letters, lay a small, red envelope, gently sealed with a wax imprint. Intrigued, Eddie picked it up, giving it a glance before tossing it in his messenger bag and proceeding to fill it up with the rest of the mail. How curious! A red envelope!

Eddie skipped along as he made his early-morning route, his mind racing over each destination he would hit first. He saw that Howdy Pillar had quite a few letters addressed to him, namely from Sally Starlet, so therefore that would be his first stop! Next, he would circle around to Barnaby B. Beagle’s place, with a very special letter from Poppy Partridge. Then, he would go across the road over to Wally, to check in on the new painting he planned on starting today. After, it was to Poppy’s barn, then Sally’s theatre, then Julie’s (very) Joyful cottage, and finally, a clean and calming end with a visit to Frank Frankly’s humble home.

As Eddie quietly slipped the letters into Howdy’s mailbox, he took in a deep breath. There was something so tranquil about early-morning deliveries, at least to him. As much as he loved the feverishly excitable residents of Home, he also enjoyed the peace and quiet that was brought along by the sunrise. Though, most wouldn’t quite know that about him. Deliveries were an intimate matter, something he chose to do alone. He couldn’t imagine the chaos that would come from a neighbor joining him.

The crisp wind gently blew the leaves around him, the mailbox closing with the creak of the hinge and the snap of the clamp. With great care, Eddie lifted the flag into its upright position, stepping away and happily skipping to his next destination.

The birds chirped all around Barnaby’s house, greeting him with song as he stepped onto the doormat and slipped his letter into the mail slot. From the clack of the cover, he could hear Barnaby thumping his way downstairs, excited to see what Eddie had in store for him today.

“Well, heya there, Eddie!” He waved, giving a toothy grin as he balanced carefully on his circus ball. It seemed that the Beagle had already managed to crush the letter in his paw, gripping it tightly and nearly tearing the envelope. Eddie let out a soft sigh, knowing how Poppy would react to seeing her carefully-written message in such a state.

“Hello, Barnaby!” Eddie smiled, bowing with a tilt of his hat. “How do you do on this fine morning? You’re…not gonna’ chase me again, are ya’?”

“Not unless you give me a reason to!” He chuckled, looking at his piece of mail. “Another letter from Poppy, hm? Wonder what I did to get her feathers in a bunch.”

“That’s for you to find out, Mister Beagle!” Eddie secured his cap onto his head, “And for me to deliver.”

“Hey, since you’re here, why don’t you work on delivering a letter for me?” Barnaby dug into the pocket of his vest, pulling out a crumpled envelope addressed to his dear friend Wally.

“No-can-do, Barnaby,” he shrugged, “If ya wanna send it? Ya gotta stamp it.”

“Oh! Right!” Barnaby reached into his other pocket, slapping on a stamp before losing his footing and slipping off of his ball. With a loud thud, he fell onto his bum, a nearby photo frame shattering from the jolt and leaving a cut on his hand.

“Barnaby!” Poppy squawked from behind Eddie, “Oh, I knew you were going to fall one of these days. I warned you!”

“Gee, take it easy, Pops!” Barnaby chuckled, “It’s just a little tear.”

“A little tear can be a big deal,” She moved past Eddie, opening her bag and taking out an emergency sewing kit and bandaids. “Did you read my letter, Barnaby? Surely you must have, with how you’ve crumpled the envelope!”

“Sorry, Eddie,” Barnaby apologized sheepishly, “Maybe some other time I’ll gun after ya’.”

“I’m—lookin’ forward to it!” He quickly waved off, doing his best to avoid any more awkwardness. Lucky for him, though, this sent him right on his way to Wally’s! 

Home’s eyes followed him excitedly, welcoming him inside with a squeak once he slipped the letter into the mailbox. He wondered what surprises the two had in store for him today.

“Hello, Eddie,” Wally chimed, turning away from his easel, “How are you? Have you got any new mail for me?”

“There’s a few letters waitin’ for ya in your mailbox today, Wally!” Eddie chirped, adjusting his bag. “Looks like you got a canvas out, hm? You gonna paint today?”

“That’s a good question,” Wally turned away, staring at his paintbrushes. “Home, what do you think?”

Home let out a series of soft creaks, whistling as it took in wind from the fresh fall air.

“Oh! That’s a great idea, Home,” he smiled, lifting up his pencil before sketching an apple. “I would love to paint some fruit today. Eddie Dear, do you have anything else you would like to add?”

“Er—how ‘bout a butterfly?” he suggested, looking over Wally’s shoulder as he quickly sketched. “And maybe a flower or two, right there on the left?”

“Oh, what wonderful ideas,” he kicked his legs, reaching for his tube of paint, “Thank you, Eddie. I’ll be sure to dedicate this one to you.”

“Not a problem, Wally!”

Now he had something to look forward to at the end of the night! Aside from helping out all the neighbors, of course.

Eddie made his way to Poppy’s barn, making sure to carefully slip her letters into the mailbox and raise her flag. It was a quaint and warm abode, safe enough for even a mouse to make its home inside. Poppy did enjoy taking care of critters, even if they frightened her sometimes. She was a sweet woman that way.

After that quick stop, he made his way to Sally’s, slipping the letters into her mail slot before reading the note taped to her door. It looked like she was out with Julie for the day, rehearsing her next big break-out. How fun!

Quietly, Eddie listened to the banter of his fellow neighbors as he trekked on to his next destination. How lovely did the atmosphere grow to be! Autumn had always been his favorite season, and having the chance to experience and explore it in a place as wonderful as Home was enough to fill his heart with warmth and mirth. How much he wished every day would feel this way, how much he wished that nothing would change.

With a pep in his step, he made his stop at Julie’s house, slipping her letters into the mailbox and raising the flag. Good! Now that everyone was all set, it was time to visit Frank.

Oh, gosh. It was time to visit Frank.

Chapter Text

Eddie Dear could feel his heart race as he approached the doorstep, careful to not track any dirt onto Frank’s freshly cleaned door mat. Knowing Mister Frankly, it’d be best to not irk him. Quietly, he slipped in a letter from Julie, cautiously closing the mailbox with the swivel of the hinge.

Perhaps one could call it an odd habit, but Eddie always noticed the little details in each neighbor’s mailbox. He’d even bet that he could recognize whose was whose, based on the squeaks alone. And out of everyone, he always knew that Frank’s mailbox was the quietest. He supposed it was from hours of polishing, or even the oil he would apply on the joints every week, but it was still funny how something as simple as a mailbox could convey his personality so easily.

The door swung open as Eddie gently creeped away, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble and trip.

“Eddie!” Frank looked shocked, “Ah—did I startle you?”

“What? Me? Not at all, Frank!” He waved the idea off, adjusting his messenger bag and straightening his cap. “Just forgot where I was goin’, that’s all.”

Frank stayed quiet for a moment before nodding, closing the door to his house and helping Eddie up. “Frankly, I think you should be a little more careful. You don’t want to make Poppy run out of bandages again.”

“Heh, definitely not!” he looked towards Frank’s mailbox. “You got a letter in there, fresh from Julie’s desk!”

“I’ll be sure to look at it later,” he moved to open the mailbox, swinging his net over his shoulder and taking the letter. “Got any more deliveries to make?”

“Nope, you’re the last one for the day!” Eddie watched as Frank went back into his home, setting the unopened letter onto his dining table. He quickly averted his eyes, worried Frank would think him nosy. Luckily, the man simply shut his door, securing an entomology book under his arm and nodding to Eddie before making his way off to the forest.

Eddie hurried off to the post office with a flushed face, embarrassed that he had managed to be startled so easy. Somehow, Frank always managed to catch him off guard. Did he think he was obtuse? A Klutz, perhaps? Oh, how awful!

“Hiya, Eddie!” He heard Julie call, an ice cream in hand. She was linked arms with Sally starlet, skipping excitedly while not noticing the trail of melted strawberry she was leaving behind. Sally waved to him, her face turning to one of concern as she saw his expression.

“I’ll meet you at your house, Julie!” she affirmed, waving her off as she continued to skip away. With a sweeping step, she made her way to Eddie, cupping his face with delicate hands.

“Uh—hello, Sally,” he raised an eyebrow, confused. “Did I forget one of your letters again?

“Oh, no need to act!” She furrowed her brow, tilting her head. “What’s got you in the mud, Dearest? You’re not peppy like you usually are.”

“Just took a tumble, that’s all,” he waved her off with a nervous chuckle, pushing away. “Right in front of Frank. At his house.”

“Aw,” she moved to hug him. “I’m awfully sorry about that, Eddie. How about you join me and Julie for some cards to cheer you up, hm?”

“Sounds wonderful,” Eddie offered a crooked smile, following her as she led him by the hand up the street.

———

Boy, after a long day of playing with the neighbors, Eddie was beat. But hey, even though he lost every round, those card games with the girls really helped lift his spirits.

Eddie tossed his messenger bag onto the dining table as he walked past, slipping off his shoes and hanging his hat and jacket onto the coatrack. All he really wanted to do now was kick back and relax with a cup of tea and a nice book. He just had to make sure he didn’t leave the water boiling too long. Over-steeped tea was never as good.

Eddie filled his kettle up with water, plucking leaves off of his mint plant and dropping them inside along with dandelion petals. It was fun trying different flavor combinations every night, and he wondered what the two different ingredients might concoct him this time.

After several minutes of choosing from his library, Eddie decided to pick up a book on pollination, and all the different flowers that could be found in the wonderful town of Home. Sure, it was a simple kind of book, but it was one he enjoyed. After all, who didn’t enjoy learning about nature?

Before he knew it, his kettle let out a guttural whistle. As he poured himself his cup of tea, he turned to look at the table, noticing a shiny red envelope sticking out of his bag.

Oh, stars! Had he missed a delivery?

“Silly me,” he cursed himself, facepalming as he rushed to grab the letter. However, as he looked it over, he noticed something weird.

It was addressed to him, with no sender.

How odd, he thought. Who would write a letter without a name? Well, at least they marked it. A glistening stamp of a blue copper was attached nearly in the corner, reflecting the warm lights of the stovetop in Eddie’s eyes. It drew his attention in, entrancing him with its glittery wings on the shiny background.

Without thinking, Eddie gently peeled the stamp off of the letter, sticking it with care into his stamp book on the counter. Well, if they weren’t naming themselves, at least they knew how the postal system worked. Maybe he’ll give it a read, hm? Then, he could figure who this letter belonged to once and for all.

But then again, he really wanted to read his book…

Eddie moved to sit in his living chair with a sigh, looking between the envelope and his book. Hard decisions were to be made in his humble abode. But, after a few minutes, he decided to just let himself relax for the night and worry about it in the morning.

With the sip of his tea and the crack of the book spine, Eddie began to read. This time, it was a passage about magnolias! Oh, how he loved to decorate the post office with them. But every so often, he found his mind lingering—right back to that shimmering envelope in the kitchen. He felt captivated by it, by the secrets and mystery such a thing could hold. And soon, it became all too much to bear.

“I know I need to relax,” he said to himself, rationalizing his decision and walking towards the table, “But maybe, if I look for a name in the letter, I could figure out who it belongs to and put my head to rest.”

With great caution, Eddie pried off the wax seal, careful not to damage the envelope. The letter had been neatly folded and written on a lovely pastel paper, with letters curling at the edges and ink swaying on the lines of the page. As Eddie read, he felt his face grow hot.

Oh.

Oh, dear.

Quickly leaning himself on the counter, Eddie’s eyes retraced each of the words on the page. This was…no—could it be?

“My Eddie Dearest,” he began to mumble out loud to himself, “You may not know my name, but I know yours. In my tale, I hope you do not bore.”

“Not much time has passed since I’ve seen you last,”

“But I find my heart pangs for your visit once more.”

“For your letters, I always wait at the door,”

“And no matter how much you bring, I always want more.”

“In my heart, you light a fire,”

“Signed truly yours, your secret admirer.”

Eddie felt that his heart was near bursting—ready to tear through his cotton-stuffed chest.

Whoever wrote this certainly had a way with words. A way that left him flustered and unsure of what to do.

With a shaking hand, Eddie moved to grab a pen and paper.

…

After all, it was rude to leave a letter unanswered.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing Frank Frankly loved more than studying butterflies, it had to have been his early-morning walk. There was nothing more comforting than hearing the crickets chirp, the rustling of the birds in the fall trees, and listening to the peaceful song they brought along. 

He enjoyed observing Home at dawn. It was the quietest moment of his day, the emptiness before everyone would wake up. It was the time he could give himself to think and decide what to do after his morning cup of coffee. Julie had planned on meeting with him at Sally’s to enjoy the show she had been organizing with Poppy, but Frank wasn’t quite sure if he was up for that. As much as he loved Julie and hanging out with her, he felt going to such a rambunctious event would simply overwhelm him.

He knew Barnaby and Wally had set out on a playdate today, which meant that the two would most definitely be on an afternoon stroll through Home. As much as he wanted to say hi to Wally, part of him also wanted to avoid being told yet another crummy joke about his bowtie. But hey, maybe Barnaby would have some better material today.

No, that was a bit too hopeful. To be frank, he expected Barnaby to tell him the same dull joke again.

Well, it didn’t matter. Whether he hung out with Julie or took the day for himself, it would still be a day well spent. Even if he did get a bit annoyed here and there.

Frank made his way around the streets of Home, pausing to look up at the flag of the post office. Quietly, he scoffed. He knew it was a bad idea to have put his poem in the mailbox, but Julie was set on making sure it got out there. Besides, even if he hadn’t, he knew she would have just done it for him anyway. She always jumped the gun when it came to exciting things, and he often found himself pulled along at her hip while she caused her shenanigans left and right. He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times she had called him to help clean up a mess—whether it be a glitter-bomb or a kitchen catastrophe. But, even though she could sometimes overwhelm him, she was still his Julie. There was no one he would rather be friends with.

Hesitantly, Frank made his way to the post office, jogging his thoughts. Part of him was thankful she pushed him to send the letter. After all, he never would have said anything otherwise. He was too scared to. Yet, the other part cursed himself for being so easily swayed.

As he neared the post office, he felt his heartbeat race. What if Eddie hadn’t responded? He had seemed rather clueless about the letter yesterday. What if he delivered it to the wrong address? What if he accidentally managed to lead one of the other neighbors? Oh, what a mess that would be!

What was he kidding? It probably didn’t even leave the post office. Eddie never delivers mail with no sender. Usually, he’d ask around to figure out whose it was so he could correct the postal error.

To his surprise, Frank found the envelope taped to the top of the mailbox. In a rush, he grabbed it, sneaking around the corner just as the lights of the post office flickered on. He breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way back to his house, clutching the letter in his hands. From the looks of it, it hadn’t been opened. At a glance, the only difference was that the stamp had been changed to one with a mouse on it. Well, at least Eddie liked the blue copper. As much as mice could freak him out, one from Eddie was one he would cherish.

Frank ended his walk as he entered his house, gently closing the door behind him and hanging his vest on the chair of his dining table. As disappointed as he was that Eddie hadn’t opened it, part of him felt relief. He probably wrote something embarrassing that he couldn’t remember.

Well, it didn’t matter now. He had to make breakfast.

Frank set the letter on the counter and moved to the fridge, getting out the ingredients for a batch of fluffy croissants. After a few swift movements around the kitchen, he had a cup of coffee brewing, with the pastries already baking in the oven.

———

The day went on as he had expected it to. Julie ended up dragging him to the show, Barnaby teased him yet again about his bowtie, and he spent the rest of his afternoon observing the fall butterflies in his garden. After checking the mailbox, he noted that he had a few letters—a few from Poppy, one from Howdy, but none from Eddie. Part of him was disappointed.

Frank set the mail on the table as he shut himself in for the night, the red envelope on the counter catching his eye. The day had been so busy, he had almost forgotten about it. Gingerly, he picked it up and eyed it. There was something there that made him raise his brow, something he didn’t seem to notice before. 

It looked like the wax seal had been remelted onto the paper.

Frank felt his heart beat in his chest, his head nearly spinning before he stopped himself and calmed down with a deep breath. The letter had been anonymous, right? How could Eddie have known it was him? They had greeted each other just fine in the morning, nothing seemed off, so what was he worried about?

“Oh, Frank,” he sighed to himself. “Frankly, you think too much.”

Gently, he lifted up the wax seal. The shine of the envelope seemed to have been burnt off at the edge, nearly seeping onto the piece of scrap paper that was inside of it. It seemed to be clumsily folded, almost torn on one edge as he unfolded it, noticing the rather blocky—and messy—penmanship.

“Dear Secret Admirer,” he read aloud to himself, reaching for a leftover croissant on the stove, “While I am not nearly as good at poetry as you have proven to be, I did want to write back and thank you for your very kind and heartfelt letter.”

Frank grunted in acknowledgement. 

“You have certainly made my day, oh, unknown neighbor, and I am very glad you enjoy my deliveries! As long as I am Eddie the postman, I will continue to deliver your letters with great care and speed!”

Frank smiled. It was a bittersweet smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. If Julie saw him now, he knew she would be teasing him. Regardless, he continued to read.

“I may not remember much, but I will certainly remember your lovely poem! I have it hanging on my fridge now, actually.”

He did? He really hung it up?

“For now, good night! Signed, Eddie Dear, Postman.”

There was a little note in the corner.

“P.S., Thank you for the lovely stamp!”

Frank felt lightheaded as he leaned on the counter, his head (metaphorically) spinning from the note. He actually read it? And he liked it? Gosh, he felt ridiculous! This was nothing like his cool and occasionally annoyed demeanor, this felt like a whole other emotional beast to tackle. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe he had gotten a response. He couldn’t believe that Eddie actually liked his poem!

Oh, snap. Eddie actually liked his poem.

Swallowing his throat, Frank scrambled for his notebook.

After all, a good neighbor always writes back.

Chapter Text

There was something so intimate about swapping letters with a stranger, and it was something Eddie found himself longing for that night.

When he had checked the mailbox that morning, he had noticed that the letter was gone. There was a flutter in his chest, hoping that it was the secret admirer who had taken it. It felt nice to know someone liked him, even if he didn’t know who they were. All day he had been thinking about who it could have been, who would have written that letter. Could it have been Julie? No, she was never that flowery. Barnaby? As far as he remembered, Barnaby wasn’t interested in anything beyond Howdy and his hot dogs. Maybe Wally, or Sally? It wasn’t impossible.

Could it have been Frank?

Eddie felt sheepish as the thought crossed his mind. As much as he would have liked it to be Frank, he knew that was only a fantasy. Frank didn’t seem to like anyone besides Julie, and he was always very short in small talk when it didn’t have to do with butterflies or his garden. Frank was a very distant dream—one he was pretty sure would never come true.

Well, at least he could imagine.

———

Eddie awoke the next morning with a crick in his neck, probably from sleeping wrong. It wasn’t the most pleasant start to his day, but, as he liked to tell himself, it could have always been worse. As he made his way to his kitchen, he lazily began to reheat the leftover tea in the teapot, opening the fridge and taking out some eggs for an omelette. He wondered what today would have in store for him, what new letters were left in his mailbox. Even if there was no red envelope today, he would still try to hold his head high and take it in stride. After all, it was a bit of a silly—and rushed—note. He wasn’t nearly as good at writing as his admirer was, but part of him was fine with that. Besides, it gave him the opportunity to practice!

Eddie’s omelette began to grow crisp around the edges just as the kettle whistled, the tea steeped and his breakfast officially done. He gave himself a little more time than usual, putting a heat pack on his neck and shoulders as he ate. Lucky for him, Howdy sold more at the bodega in case he needed one for the day.

With the heat pack still on, Eddie moved to power on the lights of the post office, stretching out and rolling his shoulders to hopefully alleviate some of the pain. Well, stiff neck or not, he still needed to deliver the mail.

With a sluggish swoop, Eddie opened the door to the post office, making his way towards the mailbox with his messenger bag and opening it up. Just as he had thought, there was a lot of mail for today. To his disappointment, he didn’t see a single red envelope as he scooped it all into his bag. However, as he closed the door and locked the box, he noticed one taped to the top. Oh, how numb of him! How in the world could he have ignored it?

Eddie eyed the stamp on the envelope as he picked it up. It looked like it was a theona checkerspot this time, on a very glittery background. It made him smile how cheery the butterfly was, and how the shiny stamp coat glistened under the rising sun. Eagerly, Eddie opened it to reveal yet another poem.

“To my dearest Eddie,” He begun,

“My home has welcomed your letter,”

“In my heart, your words have begun to fester.”

Eddie’s eyes began to glisten as he continued to read.

“You may not know my name, but one day that knowledge will be yours,”

“Enamored by your charm, my thoughts remain at war.”

“I await your visit today, to see what kindness you have in store,”

“from your secret admirer, forevermore.”

He couldn’t help but smile. He had actually gotten a reply! Who cared about his stiff neck? This letter was all the medicine he needed to get through the day. 

With the spin of his heel, he moved inside the post office to put the stamp in his book, setting his heat pack in his microwave and slipping on his coat. As for the letter, he folded it up and put it in his pocket, just in case he wanted to read it again later on. Then, as he readjusted his bag and checked his watch, he was off.

Eddie took a glance in his bag and counted the number of letters he had. Lucky for him, he could start off easy with Howdy’s bodega, then work towards the other side of town gradually. As he looked, he noticed a bundle of letters addressed to Wally, almost one from every neighbor. He wondered what that could have been about.

Well, it was none of his business. But maybe he should talk to Wally—just to confide in someone about his newfound admirer.

Eddie made his rounds quickly, stopping every so often to let himself and his neck rest. He always had a bad habit of jerking his head around whenever he heard his name being called, or even when he heard an interesting sound, but today was really testing his limits.

As he felt his spirits drain, he pulled the letter he had received out of his pocket, reciting it to himself quietly and smiling softly. What a lovely neighbor, to write him such sweet letters. Speaking of letters, Eddie took a glance into his bag at the copious amounts of Wally letters there were. Right. He still needed to deliver them.

As he approached Home, he thought to himself. Could the admirer have been Wally? He couldn’t have been sure—he had never seen him write poetry before.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to find out.

Eddie slipped the letters into Wally’s mailbox, Home’s eyes guiding Eddie to Wally’s whereabouts on the side of the road.

“Wally Darling!” Eddie smiled, trying his best to casually walk by, “How are ya’?”

“Hello, Eddie Dear,” Wally smiled, “I’m trying to paint that apple tree over there.”

Eddie looked at where Wally was pointing. “But Wally, that tree has no apples on it.”

“Not yet,” he looked back at his canvas, dragging his brush across the fabric. “But it will soon, in my painting.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” he said cheerily, moving to sit next to Wally’s stool. “Say, have you ever tried out an art besides painting?”

“Like coloring?” he turned his head, his smile widening, “I love coloring.”

“Maybe,” he brought a hand to his cheek, feeling his face go hot, “What about poetry?”

“Oh, I love poetry,” Wally proclaimed, standing up and clearing his throat. “Roses are red, violets are blue, apples are red and—oh, look, your face is too.”

“Oh! Is it?” Eddie cracked a crooked smile, “Sorry, didn’t notice!”

Wally moved to sit down as Eddie moved to stand up, brushing himself off. “I hope ya’ have a good time painting, Wally! For now, I’m off.”

“Goodbye, Eddie,” he waved as Eddie jogged away.

Well, it definitely wasn’t Wally.

Eddie let out a sigh once he was out of sight, staring at the letter in his hands with a small bit of sadness. As much as he wanted to find out who this person was, perhaps it wasn’t meant to be.

Gently, he leaned on the side of Poppy’s barn, taking off his hat and running a hand down his face. As much as he wanted to be hopeful, things just weren’t as cheerful as they usually were.

“Excuse me? Mister Eddie Dear?” he could hear someone say from a distance. Quickly, he turned his head to look at who had addressed him, instantly regretting the decision as a twang of pain hit him. Eddie winced and let out a yelp, holding his neck.

“Oh, dear!” Poppy rushed over, offering him a wing to squeeze, “Are you alright, Eddie?”

“Just slept a little funny, that’s all,” he laughed sheepishly, taking her wing, “What are you doin’ here, Popps?”

“Ah, well, I live here,” she let out a small chuckle. “Come on inside, Eddie. I have just the recipe to make you feel better.”

Chapter Text

Despite its outside, Poppy’s barn felt like more of a home than did some of the actual houses on the block. There were windows with pies cooling, cakes in the process of frosting, and a beautiful wood-crafted loom that sat in the corner along with her sewing supplies. A bird’s gotta have her hobbies, after all.

“Make yourself comfortable, dear,” she smiled at him, moving to shut the door and tend to the stove, “My biscuits are almost done, and I’m just about to up on my new apple pie recipe! If you’d like to taste test, of course.”

“Thanks, Popps,” Eddie smiled, moving to sit at her dining table and setting his hat down. Slowly, he unzipped his jacket, allowing himself to warm up to the barn heater. “Really though, it’s no big deal—I’ve dealt with sore necks before.”

“But you have to at least relax from time to time,” she set down a bowl of of soup in front of him, draping a heating pad on him and massaging his shoulders, “Even the mailman has to take days off, dear.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” he took a whiff of the soup, delighting in the homely, filling smell. It reminded him of the noodle soup his mother used to make whenever he was feeling ill or even slightly under the weather, and it had a similar spiced twang to it. Gently, Eddie lifted a spoonful into his mouth, delighting in the flavor.

“Poppy, this is delicious!” he exclaimed, “My, what did you put in here?”

“Oh, it’s just your typical noodle,” She turned away to tend to the pie filling on the stove, “Tabasco style, just like my father used to make it.”

“Well, your pops is an excellent chef,” He took another spoonful into his mouth, sticking his hand in his pocket and taking the letter out. Slowly, he turned it over in his palms, his face falling slightly.

“Is something troubling you, Eddie?”

“More like some*one*, Poppy,” he let out a weak chuckle, unfolding the letter and reading it again. Who knew that something that made him so happy a few hours ago would make him so anxious now?

Carefully, Poppy made her way to the table once more, taking the letter as Eddie handed it to her and reading it quietly aloud. As she reached the end, her face softly curled into a smile.

“Sounds like you’ve got a secret special someone,” she gently gushed, handing it back to him, “Oh, isn’t that sweet?”

“If only I could figure out who they were,” he sighed, folding it up and putting it back in his pocket. “I know it’s not Wally, but other than that, I have no idea! It could be any of the six other neighbors, and that’s a lotta’ people to guess from.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s definitely not from Home,” she picked up his now-empty bowl, moving to put it in the sink, “So that narrows your choices down to five.”

“Make it four,” he moved to stuff his hat on his head, burying his face in his arms, “I don’t think Frank particularly likes me all too much.”

“I wouldn’t rule him out so soon,” she offered a patient smile, turned the stove heat off and setting the filling off the burner to cool. Quickly, she slipped her mitts onto her wings, opening the oven and taking out her tray of homemade biscuits to cool. “People can surprise you sometimes, dear. You never know.”

Eddie nodded, taking his hat off and slowly uncurling. He had to admit, the soup and heating pad really did help him feel better. He hadn’t realized how bad he had felt all day until he finally took the time to take care of himself. 

“Poppy,” he began, fiddling with his hat, “You’ve been around the block a few times, right?”

“Why yes I have,” she nodded, moving to sit down and lend an ear, “I’ve met many a fine featherette in my life. What makes you ask.”

“Do you have any advice for me?” he asked sheepishly, “I’m not exactly experienced when it comes to this pen-pal stuff.”

“Oh, of course!” she chirped. “I’d be happy to lend a word of advice.”

The two of them talked as Poppy rolled out her pie crust, cutting the edge around the pan with very careful precision. Even with how nervous she had been with the knife, somehow she trimmed it near-perfectly. She was amazing.

“So the best thing to do right now,” she began, gently crossing strips of dough on top of the apple filling, “Is to just be nice! Maybe even offer to lend an ear or some advice from time to time! If you’re wanting things to work out with your pen-pal, you just need to treat them well.”

Eddie nodded, watching as she gently continued to fold the strips over themselves. He wanted to do something nice, he wanted to do something absolutely marvelous for his admirer! Maybe with that, he could make them feel just as special as they made him feel. Wouldn’t that be lovely?

With cautious hands, Eddie slipped the pie into the oven to bake, nibbling on a biscuit as he sat and watched the filling begin to bubble afterwards.

“Don’t sit too close to the oven, Eddie,” Poppy warned, stepping away, “You have to look out for your safety more.”

“Oh, you worry too much about me,” he teased, delighting in the wonderful cinnamon scent that wafted its way to him, “I’ll be fine, Poppy. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“A lot can happen, Dear,” she took his arm, helping him up and giving him a stern look. “Please don’t make me worry about you more than I already do.”

“Okay, okay,” he sighed, moving to take the heat pack off of his neck and handing it back to Poppy. “You know, I best be headed home. Gotta rest up, you know?”

“Oh, of course!” she nodded, “But won’t you stay until the pie is done? I don’t want you leaving here empty-handed, dear.”

“Well—sure!” he chuckled, smiling, “How could I refuse such a generous offer?”

Poppy smiled down at him, patting him on the shoulder before turning back to the table to relax.

———

Eddie had arrived home with half of a warm, almost steaming apple pie. Poppy had been incredibly open-handed with her portions, nearly giving him the whole thing until he finally convinced her to save some for herself. She could be incredibly difficult to persuade when it came to generosity. Regardless, he had a pie to enjoy that night.

Eddie locked up the post office as he stepped inside, wiping his feet and sluggishly moving towards the back room. He tossed his messenger bag onto his dining table as he did so, rubbing his neck and hanging his hat onto the coatrack. Gently, Eddie set the pie down next to the satchel, shrugging off his coat and letting out a groan as a dull pain shot down his neck. Curse him for constantly losing his pillow at night. However it managed to end up on the floor without fail every time was a mystery to him.

Eddie hung his coat next to his hat, noticing the letter from earlier sticking out of his pocket. Tentatively, he reached for it, reading it aloud to himself once more before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. He had to remind himself of Poppy’s advice, to stay patient and just let things happen. But as much as he knew he had to do so, he didn’t know how he could have. This was more than exciting to him—it was a thrill! He wanted to talk more, he wanted to know more, he wanted to meet this person who had so boldly taken up all of his thoughts.

But, perhaps it wasn’t the right time yet.

Eddie sat down at his desk and set the poem in front of him, cracking open his journal and uncapping his pen. At this point, he didn’t care if his letter was wordy, or if it even made sense. He just needed to write.

Without looking back, he stuffed the letter into that same red envelope, stamping it with a picture of a banana before sealing it. Well, messy or not, at least it was something.

Eddie pushed the chair into his desk in and capped his pen, taking the poem and sticking it onto his fridge along with the first one. As much as he wanted to smile, he felt troubled by the possibility of scaring them away. Was his new letter too much? Was it too scary? He didn’t think it to be much but words, but maybe they were scared of too many words! Gosh, this was dizzying.

Eddie took a glance at his dining table, noticing the half of the pie still untouched in the tupperware container.

Then, he got an idea.

A very tasty idea.

Eddie turned on his microwave, warming up his heat pack as he grabbed a small, glass container and cut a slice of pie. Carefully, he lowered the slice into the container and capped it, the microwave beeping.

Dragging a small accent table behind him, Eddie slung the heat pack over his shoulder, tucking the letter into his back pocket and using his other hand to hold the singular slice of pie he had cut. After a few short movements, there was now a small stand set right next to the mailbox, the container of pie gently wrapped up in the heat pack. With a swatch of tape, Eddie attached the letter to the top of the mail dispenser, sighing in relief as his work was done. After all, Poppy had recommended him to do something nice. And a slice of pie was pretty nice, right?

Hopefully his admirer would like it.

Chapter Text

All Frank felt was anxiety that morning as he stepped out of his house and took a deep, shaky breath of the crisp, fall air. As much as he wished his walk would comfort him, there was just a deep-rooted nervousness in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t shake. Frank always hated starting the day nervous, but today he was grateful that it at least got him out of bed on time.

Quietly, he shut his door and stepped off of his doorstep, gently grazing his mailbox as he walked by and letting out a stiff sigh. He could barely think of what to write back to Eddie—heck, he hadn’t even expected a response—and all he could think about was if it was good enough or not.

“Oh, stop it, Frank,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head, “You worry too much.”

Slowly, he made his way around the streets of home, feeling his stomach turn as he neared the post office. What if there wasn’t anything there for him? Oh, what a fool he would look like trying to search for a nonexistent letter. It made him feel even more ridiculous than he did writing those damn poems. He never should have let Julie convince him to put it in the mailbox, it only caused him more trouble than it was worth.

Frank stuck his hands into his pockets as he walked past the road to the post office, sighing and turning his head away. Perhaps another walk through home would help him gather the courage to check?

It was on his third lap around that he finally pinched the bridge of his nose, moving to cover his face before anxiously jogging to the post office. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon now, coating Home in the beginnings of a warm, golden glow. He knew Eddie would be getting up soon. If he wanted to check, he had to make it quick.

Frank turned the corner and glanced at the mailbox, his eyes widening in surprise as he noticed the set up. One of the post office’s accent tables was sitting right in front of the bushes, a thick strip of fabric wrapped around whatever sat on top of it. Out of curiosity, Frank approached, lifting up one of the ends of the piece of fabric. He could feel the beads disperse from the inside, remnants of warmth pooling around his hand. Under it was a glass dish with a single slice of pie inside, and a small ‘for you’ note taped to the top. He couldn’t help but smile at it. Eddie had thought enough about him to give him a slice of pie! Wasn’t that so sweet?

Frank picked it up with gentle ease as he turned to the mailbox. Sure enough, there was a singular red letter taped to the top.

Oh, how embarrassed he felt. Eddie was just too nice to not respond.

He stuffed the letter into the pocket of his vest before turning and quickly trotting away from the post office, right as the lights inside turned on. Well, at least his walk wasn’t for nothing. He was starting to feel a lot better.

Frank nearly kicked up dirt as he sped-walked home, keeping his eyes on his door as he got closer. He never ever found himself this excited to read a letter, even if his face didn’t show it. In fact, he all but slammed his door as he yanked the envelope out of his pocket, nearly tearing it open before telling himself to calm down and relax.

With swift action, Frank set the container on the counter and cracked the lid open, moving the treat onto a plate and setting it down to heat up in the microwave. As much as he enjoyed a chilled pie, he knew that he was playing a risky game eating it that way. He wouldn’t want to get sick, especially when it was already so cold in the middle of fall.

Frank put a pot of coffee to brew, glancing at the letter nervously before hugging himself and turning away. He wanted to wait until after breakfast to see what Eddie said, but even now he found himself afraid to open it. Gosh, what if it was something mean? What if it was something nice? What if Eddie never wanted to write to him again? What if Eddie wanted to write even more?

Oh, there were too many possibilities! It made him too dizzy to think about it.

…

Perhaps a peek wouldn’t hurt.

———

You could hear Eddie’s whistle from a mile away as he made his rounds across the town, a more joyful pep in his step than usual. He offered a smile to every neighbor he passed, each of them waving back with just as much enthusiasm as he had brought to the table. Not many people noticed how joyful the neighborhood mailman was that day, except for Poppy, of course. She waved him off with a shy wing, taking her mail with a cautious grasp and making small conversation with him. Unbeknownst to the two of them, however, Frank watched quietly from his window, feeling his breath hitch in his throat as he thought of what he might say when Eddie stopped by. While his letter was mostly a pile of word-vomit, Frank could really tell that he was longing to know more about his admirer, that he was really wanting to spend time with them. And if that’s what Eddie wanted, that’s what Eddie would get.

He shut his curtains as he waved Poppy off, all-but bouncing to his next stop at Sally’s home. Eddie usually liked to hear about what new plays Sally was writing, and he knew that her ramblings would stall him for at least fifteen minutes. And then it was to Julie’s, where she would invite him in and ask him for his opinion on her latest pastries and outfits. Knowing her, that was at least another twenty minutes taken, which left him around…thirty-five minutes! Perfect!

In a rushed frenzy, Frank began to clean around his house, sweeping twice over every hardwood surface and running the vacuum across all of the rugs on the bottom floor. Perhaps he could invite Eddie in for some coffee? Maybe even some croissants?

Frank glanced around his kitchen, pondering how he could get Eddie to talk to him. Then, he noticed the flowerpots and poinsettias on the table. Right, he sighed, he was planning on repotting them today. As much as he still wanted to, there just wasn’t enough time.

Frank lifted up a pot, sucking in a sharp breath as he strained to support the heavy object. It was then that he saw a figure in his doorway, the mailman that he had been oh-so anxiously expecting. Before he could even think he slammed the pot back down on the edge of the table, rushing to open the door and accidentally startling poor Eddie.

“Oh, I’m sorry—“ He began to apologize, clasping his hands together as he grew flustered. Eddie put up a hand to shush him, smiling in embarrassment and moving to push himself up off of Frank’s walkway.

“You gotta stop startlin’ me like that, Mister Frankly,” he chuckled, putting his hat back on his head, “Well, since you’re out here, I suppose I should hand-deliver this.”

Eddie pressed an envelope into Frank’s hand. It was a small white card addressed from Julie’s family, who frequently kept in touch with him. Quietly, he pocketed it, nodding in acknowledgement.

“So,” Eddie began, trying to make awkward small conversation, “How’s your day goin’? Find any fall critters ‘round here?”

“Actually, I—“

Frank was interrupted by a large crash, the ground under his feet shaking as he quickly turned to look at what happened. Sadly enough, his brand-new flower pot lay in pieces on the floor. He let out a long and sour sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and doing his best not to freak out.

“I’m so sorry, Frank,” Eddie began, scratching the back of his neck, “Why don’t I stay and help you clean up, Hm? It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh—Okay,” He moved out of the doorway, allowing Eddie in. He looked mystified to be walking into Frank’s home, almost in awe of it. After all, he had never visited before.

Slowly, Eddie kneeled down and began scooping up the fragments into his arms. It looked like, with enough glue, he could manage to put it all back together in one piece. He wasn’t sure if Frank would have wanted that, though. After all, he was a person of caution. Sometimes even more-so than Poppy.

“Y’know,” he began, “We could repurpose this for something else, if you were up for it.”

Frank did his best to not stumble over his words, kneeling down and gathering the chunks in his arms as well. “Well—what could we repurpose it for?”

“Many things! You could use the base as a water-drainer, or even make a mosaic from the shards!”

Frank nodded, turning to look at Eddie with a nervous expression. Eddie slowly moved to look at him as well, glancing down at the fragments in his hands. “What were you plannin’ on using this for, anyway? It’s a bit big, don’t you think?”

“I was gonna move some poinsettias today,” Frank stood, setting the pieces on the table where the pot was once balanced. With a sigh he put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “But, I guess I’m a pot short now.”

“Hum,” Eddie thought, moving to stand and dumping his half next to Frank’s pile, “Give me a minute, Frank! I think I have an idea!”

“Oh—um—okay?” he nodded, watching in confusion as Eddie rushed out of the house. well, while he was gone, he could at least sweep up the dust.

“Today is going horribly,” Frank muttered to himself aloud, “Oh, how could I be so careless? What will Howdy say to me this time?”

He slapped himself in the head, sweeping the remnants into his dust pan and dumping them into the garbage. Frankly, he felt overwhelmed. It was never a good idea for him to have let Eddie inside, much less send that stupid letter! Oh, curse Julie. No amount of joyfulness would make up for this.

He felt dumb. This was all just one big, very awful idea. He should have known that this was going to happen. Now, Eddie was gone, and he had four very pretty flowers in desperate need of new homes.

Frank quickly pulled out a chair and moved to sit as his head began to spin, his eyes closing and his mouth curling into a very sad frown. Everything was too overwhelming for him. As much as he just wanted to sit there and let himself be sad, he knew he had stuff to do.

But he would at least let himself sit and be sad for a few minutes. After all, it was only just to mourn such a pretty pot.

Frank kept his eyes closed as he hummed to himself, his head still spinning. As awful as he knew he would feel when it finally stopped, he really didn’t find himself caring all too much. That was a problem for Future Frank. However, before he could even register it, he felt two hands gently plant themselves on the sides of his head, stopping the movement altogether. Frank opened his eyes in shock. In his double vision he could barely make out the shape of Eddie, who was kneeling down in front of him with a concerned expression. Behind him sat a brand-new flowerpot, a beautiful terracotta planter. 

“I know a sad face when I see one, Frank,” he began, doing his best to put on an encouraging smile, “Tell me, what’s troublin’ you?”

“Oh, it was mainly the flower pot,” he sighed, relaxing into Eddie’s hands and looking away in embarrassment, “Among other things…”

“Why don’t we talk about it while we work?” Eddie stood, patiently offering his hand out to help Frank up, “After all, these flowers can’t transfer themselves.”

Frank looked up at him in surprise before slowly taking his hand and standing, his mouth curling into a small, crooked smile. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Chapter Text

Surprisingly enough, nothing really bad happened after that. Eddie had offered his terracotta planter, and while it bothered Frank that the flower pots were now all mismatched, it was better than not being able to move them. In fact, after they had finished transferring, he had even helped arrange them in the front, with two on each side of the walkway. Admittedly, Frank couldn’t have done it alone. The pot itself was already heavy enough, and he could barely lift it up after the flowers had been replanted. He had nearly toppled over once before Eddie shifted the weight and helped him lift it. Curse him for always overestimating himself. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if Eddie hadn’t shown up at all. That would be four broken pots instead of one.

Frank swept dirt off of the floor after Eddie had said his final goodbye, lost in his thoughts about the day. As awful as it had gone, and as annoyed he was about the flowers no longer matching, he felt that enjoying it with Eddie was just enough to fix his mood, if only a little bit. It was still a bad day of course, but the time they spent together helped make it slightly more bearable. That mailman was always trying to help people out. And maybe that was why he liked him so much. He was so good, so sweet, and Frank was…well, Frank.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be helpful, it was simply that he didn’t know how to be. People scared him, sometimes even overwhelmed him, and each time he would end up blowing his top over the smallest detail. It made him feel bad how short-tempered he could be, especially when the other neighbors were just trying to get him to have a good time. They probably thought him a bit of a wet blanket, but he knew that they always did their best to make him feel included. Even if he was being a grouch.

Frank swept the dirt into his dustpan, opening his sink cabinet and dumping it inside of the garbage. He didn’t like to have the trash out in the open, he felt it ruined the very exquisitely-selected decor of the kitchen, and he disliked having even a single thing out of place. The organization helped keep him calm and comfortable, and would often be cause for Julie’s teasing. But even after a long day of activities, whether it be making gelatin or playing as a businesswoman in a big city, she never hesitated to help him clean up and reorganize. Frank knew that she understood—to some level, at least—his need for organization. He was a very particular person with very particular person interests, and if those interests were not arranged in a very particularly interesting way, they became very unparticular and very uninteresting. That was a big no-no.

Frank approached his phonograph with a feather duster, gently flicking his wrist back and forth to clean the shiny, golden bell. It was a comforting nightly tradition for him, to play his music and make himself some tea before turning in. When he had moved to Home, the record player had been one of the only things he had taken with him—aside from his butterflies and bugs, of course. It had been a gift from his father, which had been a gift from his father’s father, which…oh, never mind. If he thought about it more, he would spend all night tracing the Frankly puppetline again. That wasn’t very productive for music-listening.

Frank moved the needle onto his record, static spitting from the phonograph until the pitch bent just enough for the gentle melody of a trumpet to be heard. It was a simple duet from an old record his grandmother had given him, right before her passing. She had always noted it as her favorite tune, and the remaster had all but burst her heart. She too was like him—a woman with very particular taste—and it brought comfort.

Frank pulled out a drawer to reveal rows of teabags all nicely organized by color. Not a single packet was out of place, which made it perfectly easy for him to find the flavor of the night: chamomile. Poppy had once told him that chamomile was wonderful for winding down, and ever since he had made it a point to treat himself to it after a particularly stressful day. However, something was slightly off in the tea drawer. He had forgotten that he stuffed Eddie’s letter in there. As he pulled out a chamomile pouch, he decided to reread the letter before letting out a sigh and plopping the teabag into his empty cup. Once his kettle whistled he poured the water inside, taking the tea and the letter with him to his library.

It wasn’t anything to brag about, or at least he thought. It was simply an arrangement of shelves lined with taxonomy books, entomology encyclopedias and the occasional novel Julie had gifted him. It was simple and cosy, built from the very first day he made Home, well, home.

Frank sat himself at his desk and uncapped his pen, flipping his notebook open and staring at the blank page. Quickly, he took out a bottle of ink, dipping the tip inside and pressing it to the paper.

“Dear Eddie,” he began, before pausing, shaking his head and tearing the page out. If he wanted to do this, he wanted to do it right. But the more he wrote, the more he began to doubt himself.

“My Eddie Dearest?” he questioned, writing it down. No, No! He already used that one!

He scribbled it out.

“Eddie my Dear?”

Ugh, too similar. He scribbled it out.

“Eddie, my Dearest Darling of Home.”

Gah! What was Wally doing in there? This wasn’t about him! Go away!

He scribbled it out. Poetry was hard, and he wasn’t any good at it. Oh, why did he ever think this was a good idea?

Frank was startled from his thoughts as his phone loudly began to ring next to him. The noise shot a piercing pain through his ears until he had picked it up, holding the receiver just far away enough to still be able to hear the voice on the other side.

“Hello? This is Frank,” he began anxiously, the same way he usually did. The other end of the phone was clouded with shuffling, the noises almost being muffled before his ears were yet again assaulted with an overwhelming squeal.

“Hello there, neighbor!” Julie’s voice rang painfully in his head, “How’s my Franky Cranky doing? Have you gone to bed yet?”

“Don’t call me that,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and bringing the phone closer to himself. As soon as he did so, he moved to bring his knees to his chest, sitting perched on his chair with one arm holding the phone and the other hugging himself. He would be lying if he didn’t admit Julie’s call brought him comfort, but he still felt so disoriented. “What makes you ring me this late?”

“To check up on you, silly!” she chirped, “I wanted to wish you a good night!”

Frank nodded, staring down at his letter in disappointment. “Thank you, Julie.”

There was silence on the phone for a minute.

“Are…you going to wish me a good night back?” she asked, a twinge of sadness in her voice.

“Hum? Oh, I’m sorry, Julie,” he sighed. “I wish you a good night back.”

She went quiet again.

“Frank, are you okay?” you could hear ruffling from her end, which Frank assumed to be her sitting up in bed. In all honesty, he didn’t know how to respond to her. He simply sipped on his now-lukewarm tea, taking in the earthy flavor.

“I’m taking that as a no,” she began. “What’s wrong? What’s got you all upset? Is it your flower pots?”

“Gosh, you noticed that?” he felt a spark of embarrassment pile on top of his unease. “No, it’s not the flower pots right now.”

“Then what is it? You know you can tell me anything!”

That was a lie. Julie often had a habit of gabbing to the other ladies about his business, usually not realizing until she had already said too much. But even still, Frank chose to confide in her. She never had bad intentions, only a mouth slightly too big for her brain.

“Well,” he began, swallowing, “You do remember that letter you made me put in the mailbox? The one addressed to…one of the neighbors?”

“Oh, yes! Your letter to the neighbor!” Frank knew she was nodding. “What of it?”

“Julie,” he cleared his throat, “He, uh, wrote back.”

“My, Howdy wrote back?” she exclaimed, “Wonderful! I didn’t think he would want to reply!”

“What? Howdy? No! I—huh?” he stammered, his face flushed, “What do you mean he wouldn’t want to reply?”

“Wait, it wasn’t Howdy you wrote that letter to?” she asked.

“I—will neither confirm nor deny if it was Howdy.”

“Aw, man! Then how will I know who to pair you up with for the patty-cake competition?”

“Julie—!” he shook his head, sighing, “Listen, I need your help.”

“I’ll be over in three!” you could hear loud amounts of shuffling, and what Frank assumed to be her hopping out of bed.

“Nono, stay there!” he shot up, quickly assuring her before she could get her shoes on. He felt himself growing overwhelmed, with how many times Julie had already tried to jump the gun. “I just need some advice. About this.”

“What’s ‘this?’”

“You know,” he looked down at his notebook, his frown stretching, “I…want to learn how to be good.”

“How to be good? she asked, “But Frank, you’re the bestest good I know! The goodest good to ever good!”

“No, not like that—” his voice grew quiet as he sat and hunched over himself, looking down at the letter with blurring eyes. Why was he crying? Why was he upset? He didn’t know. But this certainly wasn’t helping.

“Then like how?” Julie questioned. All she had gotten was a quiet sniffle in response.

“Oh, Frank, please don’t cry! Do you want me to sing to you? I can bring you some pudding! We can make some more together!”

“Please, don’t,” he mumbled, wiping the tears from his face. “I’m sorry, today just hasn’t been too kind.”

“I can tell,” her voice quieted down, exactly to the volume she would use every time Frank felt overwhelmed. “What’s wrong? Can I help you at all, Frank?”

“I don’t know what to say to Ed—um—the neighbor,” he moved to fidget with his hands, tucking the receiver between his neck and shoulder. “I think I’m getting stuck right now.”

“What if I helped you get unstuck?” Julie offered. “I would like to try.”

“Oh, um—“

“What are five things you can see?”

He paused. “I can see…my notebook, my pen, my phone, my teacup…a book…”

“Great! Four things you can touch?”

“My chair, my desk…Julie, I—“

“Apupup! Four things, mister! You still need two more!”

Frank let out a small chuckle, sniffling. “My pen, and my teacup?”

“Great! Three things you can hear?”

“The crickets, Poppy squawking, and the heater?”

“Two things you can smell?”

“Tea and pen ink.”

“One thing you can taste?”

He moved to lift up his cup, taking a sip before answering. “I taste chamomile.”

“Wonderful,” she cheered softly, “Are you feeling any better, Frank?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he looked at his now tear-stained paper, moving to hold the receiver with one hand and fiddle his pen in the other, “I want to write him back. But I don’t know how.”

“Oh! I know how to help!” she chimed, “Why don’t you start with, ‘hello?’”

He let out a quiet laugh, his face curling into a bittersweet smile as he tore out the old page and began to write. “Now what?”

“It has been a pleasure exchanging letters with you,” she hummed. Frank wrote it down.

“Anything else?”

Chapter Text

“I really appreciated your last message. It’s always fun finding a new mystery friend, but I’m not quite ready to tell you my name yet. I know you still do not know me, but I want to get to know you better. Maybe in time, we can learn about each other. How does that sound?”

Eddie smiled. It was a big, dumb smile, but it was a smile. He was so excited to have received a letter back, he nearly jumped for joy in the middle of the post office.

“Here is my question for you,” he continued to read, “What is your favorite food, and why?”

Oh, Eddie loved questions! Well, the answer would obviously have to be…um…

It was…

Hum.

There were just too many to choose from! He’d feel awful choosing just one and making all the others feel bad. As soft of a spot he had for bread pudding, he also found he liked clam chowder and lobster bisque just as much! In fact, almost all hot foods were favorites to him. They brought him comfort, especially on those cold winter nights after spending hours delivering mail in the snow. And then there were those gorgeous gelatin structures that Frank would bring to Sally’s shows every so often—gosh, were they gorgeous! But somehow, he seemed to be the only neighbor who didn’t quite enjoy the taste. ‘Mighty terrible, but awfully pretty,’ as he would put it.

Frank was a very creative chef. It was something he admired about him. But seeing him so distraught yesterday made him sad. He just hoped that his planter helped relieve his stress, even if it no longer matched. It felt weird seeing Frank anything but mildly annoyed, but upset? No-can-do. If anyone was feeling low, he made it his responsibility to turn their frown upside-down. So he did! And…Frank actually smiled at him. It was a small smile, but it was a smile. And it made his chest feel tight, it made him feel out of breath and hot in the face. The only times he had seen Frank smile were when he was with Julie, or talking about bugs, or something other that he probably didn’t understand. Heck, all this time Eddie had thought Frank held some mild disdain or dislike for him, but to see him smile? That had to have meant something. A smile from Frank was about as rare as a snowdrop blooming in the middle of June.

Oh, but enough about that! He had mail to deliver, and he didn’t want to be late.

Eddie chugged the rest of his coffee and slammed the cup on the counter of the post office, folding the letter and putting it into his pocket. He would have to think about it before giving his admirer a response. But for some reason, this letter confused him. It felt different than all of the other ones he had received before. Sure, it wasn’t poetry, but it just felt off. Like someone new wrote it. Gah! Was his admirer duping him? That would be terrible!

Eddie quickly shook the thought out of his head as he approached the bodega, Barnaby already outside chatting with Howdy. As they saw him approach they waved him over, Barnaby pulling out a seat just for him.

“Gosh, it’s a rare sight to see you both up at his hour,” Eddie chuckled, moving to dig in his messenger bag, “What’s the occasion?”

“Oh, just a few pals bein’ pals,” Barnaby reassured, waving a paw. Howdy let out a quiet snicker before resting his head in a hand, sighing heavily.

“As I was saying,” he began, “You can’t keep paying for every quip Wally fumbles, Barn’. You’re gonna go flat broke outta’ material one of these days!”

“Aw, come on! You know I always got baskets of jokes for ya’!” He said, watching with admiration in his eye as Howdy cracked up yet again. Then, there was a soft look of something in his eye. “Nothin’ wrong with a little skunkin’ around if it means I get to see you again.”

“Oh, you!”

To admit it, Eddie had kind of started spacing out in the middle of their conversation. He almost felt dizzy as the different foods danced in his head, all but blinding him until Howdy waved a hand in front of his face and snapped him out of it.

“Eddie, you okay?” He asked, lightly chuckling, “You look a little cloudy, neighbor.”

“Perhaps I am,” he moved to rub his chin, his eyes widening slightly as he noticed Howdy’s hand gently grazing Barnaby’s on the table. “Say, I have a question.”

“Well, make like mail and send it over!” Barnaby teased, laughter erupting from Howdy.

“What is…my favorite food?” he asked, looking down at his shoes with an awkward smile. Slowly, he began to tap his foot on the dirt road, his mind flashing back to their hands.

“Wasn’t it bread pudding? Or banana custard?” Howdy asked.

“No, no, you’re thinking of Frank,” Barnaby shook his head. “Eddie’s gotta be a soup guy.”

Even just the mention of his name was enough to snap him out of it. Could Frank perhaps know?

“Really? Frank likes custard? He always seemed like more of a bitter kind of person—like a grapefruit enjoyer!”

“Hey, Frank isn’t bitter!” Eddie crossed his arms, slightly upset by their assumption. His foot tapping sped up with their remarks, the rhythm faltering.

“You sure? Man, I haven’t made him laugh since—“

“Eddie’s right, Barn,” Howdy glanced at the beagle, “His heart’s in the right place, it’s just not quite where his head’s at.”

“Oh, really? Tell me, what kinda’ jokes is he payin’ you with?”

“Not jokes, bug facts!” Howdy clasped his hands together. “He’s quite a smart person, you know. I can make exceptions here and there.”

“Okay, okay! So you’re tellin’ me—“

“Oh! Before I forget,” Eddie interjected awkwardly, pulling two letters out of his bag in hopes of an escape, “I have your mail right here!”

“Oh, thanks, Ed,” Barnaby chuckled, taking the letters and handing one to Howdy. “In a hurry today?”

“You could say that,” he tipped his hat. “Listen, while I’ve enjoyed your very lovely banter thus for, I got a mail run to do!”

“Have a good day, Mister Dear!” Howdy waved him off as he jogged away.

Well, that was a rather long detour. As soon as he was sure he was far enough, Eddie cupped his face in his hands and sunk down into the grass. Oh, stamps! Seriously? Howdy and Barnaby? How could that have happened? How could he have not seen it coming?! Oh, this was just too much information! He had never thought Barnaby to be…Howdy, sure, but—oh, gosh.

Well, at least that crossed off two people from his list. That now left him Sally, Frank and—

“Mister Dear!” he heard a delightfully cheerful voice approach, yanking him yet again out of his thoughts, “What are you doing down there? Delivering mail to Wally’s berry bush again?”

“Not quite,” he chuckled awkwardly, brushing himself off before standing up and snagging away from the thorns. “What’s going on, Julie?”

“I was just getting an early start to the bodega!” she chimed. “I’m gonna surprise Sally with some props today!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” he stumbled over his words, “You’re always so very kind, Miss Joyful.”

She nodded happily, her expression turning as she looked up at Eddie. “My, isn’t it a little too cold for a sunburn? What’s got you all rosy-red?”

“I—!” he sputtered, “Oh, it’s not much, Julie.” Gently, he tucked his hands into his pocket, feeling the letter with his thumb. For some reason, that writing style was beginning to make a lot more sense now.

“Well then! Would you like to accompany me to the bodega?” she took his hand, dragging him along. Jeez, she was stronger than she looked.

“Not—right now!” he barked anxiously. He feared that seeing Howdy and Barnaby together again would make him feel more weird than he already did. He was happy for them, of course, but he felt crazy knowing that there was so much going on in Home right under his nose. Speaking of which, that admirer.

As much as he didn’t want to, Eddie found himself growing curious.

“On second thought,” he mumbled, holding a hand out, “Would you mind joining me on the mail route today, Julie? I’ll be done in a quick second, but I thought it would be nice to talk! You know?”

“Oh, I would love to!” Julie beamed, nuzzling up to his arm and clinging onto him, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the bodega after?”

“Actually,” he thought as he turned around to deliver a singular letter to Home’s mailbox. “Sure. I’ll go.”

That prompted a celebration from Julie, and yet another tug of his arm. As much as he wanted to knock and say hello to Wally, he knew that she was the one in charge now.

“So, neighbor,” She began as they moved towards Poppy’s barn, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Oh! well,” Eddie stuck his hand into his messenger bag, slipping three envelopes into Poppy’s mailbox, “I wanted to talk to you about letters!”

“Letters, letters, letters!” she dotted in a singsong voice, “What other thing would a mailman think about?”

“Maybe—he would think about the person writing the letters,” he almost squawked, feeling himself growing nervous. He wasn’t even sure if a woman like Julie was his fancy, or if he even fancied women at all, and he was all too worried about breaking her poor heart. Doing that would make at least two neighbors very unhappy with him.

“Hum?” she tilted her head at him, watching as they approached Sally’s doorstep, “Well, of course you’d be thinking of them too! Can’t have a letter without a sender!”

“Exactly! And that’s why I have a question for you, Miss Joyful.”

“Oh, boy! Questions! I’m all ears, Mister Dear.”

“Do you…write poems?”

“Poems? Well, sometimes,” she looked down, deep in thought. “I write them with Frank! He helps me improve.”

“Oh, really?” he tucked his hand into his pocket as Julie re-routed them towards the bodega, fiddling with the letter before taking it out and staring at the folded paper. This was now or never.

“Hm? Eddie? What do you have there?” Julie hummed, “Oh, I hope it’s a reminder note! You can be awfully forgetful sometimes.”

“Oh, I’m not that forgetful!” he shook his head.

“You’re very forgetful!” She giggled, holding out her vowels for way longer than usual. After, she extended her hand to take the note. “Now, what’s that piece of paper about?”

“Oh, uhm, it’s,” Eddie looked down at it again, carefully unfolding it with a trembling hand and slowly handing it to her. “Julie, is this note yours?”

“Oh, I recognize this hand writing!” She exclaimed, reading further, “This has gotta be F—“

Her eyes darted from the note to Eddie, to the note again, to Eddie.

Oh, shit snap.

“…Julie? You okay?”

“—FFF…Fiddlesticks!”

“Uh—“

“I don’t remember now!” she shrugged, folding the note back up and stuffing it into Eddie’s pocket. “But whoever wrote that must like you a lot!”

“Gee,” He chuckled awkwardly to himself, scratching his neck, “I was worried for a sec’. Wouldn’t want to break your heart there, Miss Joyful.”

“My heart? Hah! That’s only reserved for the most unclumsy of the unclumsy!” She looked away, a quick smile spreading on her face before being replaced with a look of stern determination. “But! Mister Dear! You better not even think of breaking the heart of that there admirer! Or else, you’re gonna be in for another big brother Jonesy!”

“Ah! Not another Jonsey!” he cringed, covering his face, “I’ll try not to, Julie! Promise!”

She chuckled at this. Oh Frank, you dope. Falling in love with the mailman, hum? You picked a good one this time. Eddie was a sweetheart.

Well, it was a good thing they were headed to the bodega. She needed to stock up on envelopes anyway. Frank would thank her later.

She could make this work.

Chapter Text

He had been home making custard before Julie burst through his door, slamming down her bags of supplies in the kitchen. It startled Frank with a jolt as he turned from the stove, his eyes wide.

“Julie?” he asked, “What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were going to visit.”

“I know! I’m sorry!” she huffed in a frenzy, dragging her supplies to the table, “I know you would prefer if I call first! But I know something now!”

“Wh—huh?” He raised his brow in confusion, taking the custard off the burner and turning off the stove, “Julie, what are you talking about?”

“You like Eddie!” she shouted in shock, pointing at him in an almost accusatory way, “You like the mailman!”

“What?!”

“The mailman! You like the—mmpth!!”

If her frazzled manner wasn’t enough to get him panicked, it sure was that sentence. There was a violent red blush prominent on him as he grabbed Julie by the waist and stopped her from running, moving to cover her mouth before they toppled over and fell tumbling on the floor. Still, she squirmed, trying to rip Frank’s mitten off of her mouth and shout the news.

“You! You like Ed—“

“—Aah! Please stop talking!”

Before the two even realized it the door flew open once more, the head of said mailman popping up. His expression turned from one of curiosity to one of concern, as he saw Frank and Julie nearly tangled together on the floor.

“What—“ Eddie began, “—happened here?”

“Nothing!” Frank shouted, pushing away from Julie and wrapping his arms around himself. That same red blush only darkened against his grey felt as his embarrassment grew. Julie looked from Frank to Eddie, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.

“I’m awfully sorry to be burstin’ in here like this, Frank,” he began, taking his hat off as a sign of apology, “But I forgot! I needed to ask Miss Julie here a very important question.”

“Oh! Another question?” she quickly snapped back to her joyful demeanor, a smile beaming on her face, “What about?”

“What’s my favorite food?” he asked, slipping his hat back on.

“Your favorite food, hm?” she glanced over at Frank, who had wide eyes as he watched the two interact. Had he been asking everyone all day? He didn’t think his question to be difficult—did Eddie really not know?

“I would have to say…bread pudding?”

“Gah! But I like bread pudding just as much as I like scallop soup!” he exclaimed, “You really don’t have a clue?”

“I’m sorry, Eddie! I don’t know the answer!”

“You don’t know because there is no answer,” Frank interjected, moving to push himself up and brush himself off. “Eddie likes a lot of things—he likes all types of bread, just like he likes all types of soup.”

“So…Eddie doesn’t have only one?”

“I don’t think so. He just likes hot food. Very comforting, hot food.”

Eddie felt a warm blush creep onto his cheeks as he pressed a hand to his face, shocked by Frank’s answer. None of the other neighbors knew—heck, neither did he—but somehow, Frank read him like a book. Perhaps he cared more than he thought?

“So,” Frank began, fixing his hair, “Was that accurate, Eddie?”

“Uh—yes!” He quickly splat out, flustered, “Why, you know me better than I know myself sometimes, Mister Frankly!”

“Oh—thank you,” he raised his brow in shock, curling his arms in at his chest and rubbing his hands together.

“Frank is veeery observant, Eddie,” Julie whisper-shouted to him, winking. Eddie, confused, winked back. After all, it was only polite.

“Well, I best be off!” he tipped his hat, “Mail’s in the ‘box for you, Frank!”

“Thank you, Eddie!” he shouted as he closed the door. Just after he did, Frank let out a loud groan, sinking back down to the floor and slumping over. His blush was back now, redder than ever, as his head began to rapidly spin.

“Oh, Frankie, what’s got you all upset?” Julie scooted next to him, doing her best to stop his head from moving. Her efforts proved futile, however, as she simply ended up slapping him repeatedly in the face before giving up.

“Don’t call me that,” he sighed, hugging his knees. She could tell his eyes had closed as he began to hum to himself, doing his best to stay calm.

“Are you overwhelmed?”

“Overwhelmed and embarrassed,” he muttered, feeling his eyes begin to sting and go hot. “How did you find out?”

“Well, he showed me your letter,” she looked over at her supplies on the other side of the kitchen. As much as she wanted to get started and impress Sally, she knew that cheering Frank up was her number-one priority.

“Why?”

“He thought I wrote it,” she leaned on him, looking down. “I’m sorry, Frank. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know, Julie.”

There was a silence.

“Do you wanna’ just sit here for a while?”

“Yeah.”

———

Well, that was finally out of the way! Eddie felt a sense of relief as he wrote down Frank’s answer on a piece of scrap paper and made his way to Julie’s doorstep. Her enthusiasm almost made him forget to drop off her letters for the day, but luckily a quick glance into his messenger bag snapped him right up to speed with what he had to do. She didn’t have much mail, it only seemed to be a package from Howdy and a letter from Sally.

Speaking of Sally, he had hoped Julie’s efforts in making her props were paying off. Eddie guessed that she had taken herself to Frank’s house for help. How kind of him to offer that to her. Frank was always a kind of sweetheart like that—and it was exactly as Howdy had said; his heart was in the right place, it was just not quite where his head was at sometimes.

He felt a soft smile creep onto his face as he thought about yesterday. Perhaps that look he gave him meant something? But perhaps it didn’t. He didn’t want to get his hopes up too high, now.

As Eddie turned away from Julie’s mailbox he was met face-to-face with Sally, who he slammed into. With a squawk erupting from each of them, they both steadied their footing, with Eddie doing his best to keep his hat on his head.

“Eddie!” Sally rubbed her forehead, “You could have given me a concussion!”

“I’m awfully sorry, Miss Starlet!” he lowered his hat, embarrassed, “I suppose I didn’t see you there.”

“Oh, silly Eddie!” she waved his words off, “Who wouldn’t be able to see me?”

“I suppose you’re right,” he let out a weak chuckle, putting his hat back on. “Any way I can help you today, Miss Starlet?”

Sally thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “Yes, you can!”

—

They were inside Sally’s theater now. The sides of the stage were lined with prop after prop, from tables to beds to even a chandelier. Everything seemed to be so sparkly, so shiny, but none of it compared to the pure radiating essence she cast upon the room. She was truly the brightest star in Home.

“So!” she began, “I’m writing a play! But! I need someone to look over the script for me, just to make sure it isn’t too cheesy. Can you do that for me?”

“Wow,” he was shocked, “Early access to a play by Madame Starlette herself? My, what did I do to deserve such an honor?”

“Well, Eddie Dearie,” she smiled, “Consider it a thank-you for always delivering my packages on time!”

“Aw, shucks, Sally,” he smiled wide, “Just doin’ my job!”

“I know!” she tossed him a copy of her script, “But here, we can read together! You can be Carmen and I can be Charlotte! How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he moved to take a seat just by the stage, cracking open the book. Sally did the same, cozying herself up to lean on his plush arm and flipping pages to the very first stage direction.

“It was a dark and cool evening at the pier,” she began, “And Charlotte Cloverton was all alone. Watching the waves crash at her feet, she noticed a shadow moving behind her…”

By the time they had reached the end of the play, Eddie was a sniffling mess.

“And…and…” he sobbed, blowing his nose, “You still love me…even as a measly country-puppet?”

“Of course I do,” Sally read, mildly entertained by Eddie’s reactions, “Till death do us part, right my darling?”

“I—Oh, I—“ Eddie could barely get out before sobbing once more, moving to cover his face and wipe his eyes.

“Eddie!” Sally looked at him, concerned, “Come on! You can do it!”

“But they love each other!” he cried, blowing his nose once more, “And they’re getting married!”

“Yes, Yes!” Sally stood up, clasping her hands together, “They’re gonna get married! Oh, Eddie, please read your last line! Pretty please?”

Eddie nodded, “Of-of course, Lottie. Till death do us part.”

“And scene!” Sally hopped, going into a jump-sit right back next to Eddie. “So, how did you like it?”

“Oh, Sally,” his lip trembled, “It was beautiful…just gorgeous…”

“Good to hear,” she smiled, folding her hands in her lap and smiling to herself. It seemed like she was thinking of something. Something dear.

“I actually wrote this play for someone, Eddie,” she looked at him with a nervous expression, “I wrote it for someone just as special as me.”

“Just as special?”

“Yeah,” she moved to take his hand, setting her head in his lap as she stared up at the stage lights. Oh, how they danced like stars from their place on the ceiling. Eddie felt himself growing nervous, his mind flashing back to that letter. If Julie hadn’t written it, his only guesses left were…oh, my.

“Sally?” he asked, “Who did you write this play for?”

She bolted up, holding her face in her hands and shaking her head. “Oh, Eddie Dearie, I just couldn’t say! Not unless you promise me to keep it all a secret.”

“I,” Eddie swallowed anxiously, “I promise.”

Gosh, was it getting hot in here? Sally was always affectionate this way with him, but then again, everyone was! Did it actually mean something more? Oh boy, he hoped not.

“Well,” she began, kneeling, “I wrote it for Julie, actually. I’m gonna ask her to play Carmen with me—I’m gonna be Charlotte, of course!”

Eddie breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, placing a hand on his chest and letting himself relax. Thank goodness, he wouldn’t have to break her heart.

Waitwaitwait. But this meant—

If it wasn’t Wally, or Poppy, or Howdy or Barnaby or Home or Julie or Sally, then it was—

Oh. Oh goodness. Oh, stamps.

“Uh, Eddie,” she looked at him, confused and worried, “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“Of-of course not!” he reassured, doing his best to mask his…fear? Excitement? Joy? He didn’t know. He was feeling way too many things at the moment.

“Well,” he stood up, “I enjoyed your play, Sally. But I best be back to the post office. Early to bed, early to rise!”

“Thank you for your help!” she waved after him, “Your creative genius is always welcome in my writer’s room!”

Eddie jogged home, his mind racing. How could it be him? How could it not be him? It made absolutely no sense—it made too much sense!

Oh, goodness.

Frank Frankly was his secret admirer?

How could this be?

What did he do to earn the honor?

Did his smile truly mean something more?

Well, whatever it was, Eddie wanted to ask him about it.

Oh, but if he asked, then Frank would know he knew! He didn’t want to scare him off, especially not now! He wanted to say something, he wanted to start something, but he didn’t know how. He didn’t wanna overwhelm him.

As Eddie shut himself in the back room, he looked over at his desk. There lay his notebook, cracked open and ready for a letter. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down, taking Frank’s note out of his coat pocket and staring at it. He wanted to write back, he truly did. But he wanted to talk to Frank—actual Frank. Was it even possible? Would he freeze up? There was only one way to know, one way to find out, but he knew that in doing so it could lead to the possible ruin and crumbling of what little they had just started building up.

Gosh, what was he doing thinking so negatively like that? He was sure it would be fine, everything always turned out fine in the end. But what if it didn’t this time? Oh, this was so confusing!

Eddie pressed his pen to the paper, writing out his response with whatever brainpower his cloudy head could muster. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to ask him the same question back? Maybe just for some confirmation? Barnaby did say he liked custard. But then again, how far could he get only asking questions? If he wanted this to work, he had to be direct.

Eddie carefully tore his response to Frank from his notebook, folding it neatly and putting it into the same envelope Frank had sent. Not before he took the stamp off though. This time, it was a simple sleepy orange, perched delicately on a branch. He stuck it into his book, replacing it with a four-leafed clover.

After setting the envelope back on the mailbox, Eddie looked back inside the doors of the post office. This didn’t feel right. This was an opportunity he didn’t want to waste, a golden ticket towards…

Oh, stamps.

Oh, stinkin’ stamps.

In a blind haze Eddie bolted to his desk once more, sitting down and hastily scrawling out a letter. It was as if something had clicked in his mind, a lightbulb had lit in his head.

He could be direct to Frank. Indirectly direct.

Would it even work?

Why wouldn’t it?

Stop overthinking it, Eddie!

With trembling hands, Eddie slipped his note into a blue envelope, sealing it with a shaky shiver and gently sticking a butterfly in the corner. Regardless of whether it was his letter or not, if he wanted to send it, he had to stamp it.

A swooping motion landed the letter into his messenger bag, ready to be delivered the very next day.

After all, Frank—two can play at this game.

Chapter Text

Mornings in Home were almost always relaxing. Unless you were a four-foot-tall puppet with a crush on the mailman. Then they were not!

Frank was on his morning walk, slightly regretting not bringing a jacket. It seemed to be a yearly tradition for him to forget how cold the weather could get in Home, but Julie was usually there to save him from his own stupidity forgetfulness. Not this time, though! She was probably still sound asleep.

With subtle haste, Frank began making his way to the post office. He had to admit, he was starting to like the little routine he and Eddie had. Letter writing, letter stamping, letter sending, all with the same red envelopes. Every day was a different surprise, and it was one that made him keep coming back for more.

And there it was, that red envelope waiting patiently for him atop the mailbox. Gently, Frank lifted it from its place and turned it over in his hands. Perhaps now that Julie knew, she could help him out with some of his responses? She had super-duper promised him that she wouldn’t tell a soul, and he knew Julie’s super-duper promises were a force to be reckoned with. As scared as he was of talking about it, he knew that at least doing so with her would be okay.

As he turned away from the mailbox, he met eyes with Barnaby and Howdy, who were sitting together holding hands at a table just outside of the bodega. They stared back at him, eyes wide, before quickly turning away and burying their noses into their tea cups.

“Wait a minute!” Frank called as he walked over, tucking the envelope into his vest, “Were you two watching me?”

“No! No! Not at all!” Howdy quickly assured, a very awkward expression on his face. Barnaby shared that same expression, doing his best (and failing) at staying straight-mouthed.

“Oh, don’t be daft!” Frank continued to shiver, “It’s very rude to spy, you know.”

“But we weren’t—“

“Yeah, okay, we were watching you,” Howdy admitted sheepishly. “But it’s so entertaining! You and Eddie do this every day!”

“Still!”

“Waitwait, he and Eddie?” Barnaby raised an eyebrow, “Is that what’s been going on?”

“I think so. I mean—it explains his reaction yesterday.”

“You mean when he got mad?”

Frank stared at the two of them with a less than pleasant expression, hugging himself and shivering until he felt a heavy coat drape over his shoulders. In shock, he straightened and swiveled his head around, meeting eyes with Eddie, who looked equally surprised.

“Uh,” He smiled, tilting his hat, “Apologies, neighbor! You just seemed cold, so I thought…”

Frank moved to wrap the coat around himself, holding the opening shut with his hands. He would be lying if he said it didn’t help. Eddie’s coat was so soft…so fluffy…

“Thank you,” he spoke quietly, turning his body and sinking into the silky fleece. Eddie offered a gentle smile and nodded. He had to admit, seeing Frank in his coat sent a rush of emotions to his chest. It captured him, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to stay standing with him under that pale light of dawn.

“And hello you two!” Eddie snapped himself out of it and tipped his hat to Barnaby and Howdy, both of whom stared at them slack-jawed. It was first Howdy who shook his head, and waved back.

“Well, I should get going,” Frank cleared his throat, casting his gaze aside and inching away from the three.

“Well, why don’t I walk you home, Mister Frankly?” Eddie offered, taking two envelopes out of his messenger bag and slipping them to the couple at the table. “I’ve gotta’ get my mail run done, anyway.”

“Oh! Uhm,” he tilted his head up, slipping his arms into the sleeves of the jacket, “Sure, Eddie. Why not?”

As the two walked off, Howdy and Barnaby met eyes.

“You—you saw that too, right?” Barnaby sputtered.

“Indeed I did,” Howdy tilted in his chair and watched their shadows disappear, “That just happened.”

They met eyes again, both in shock.

“Oh my gosh. I—No way.”

“Should we…” Howdy hesitated, “Do something?”

Barnaby shrugged, but after a few seconds, it seemed a lightbulb had went off in his head. “Hey, Howdy? Remember that play Sally’s been writing?”

-

Quietly, the two had begun making their way to Frank’s. Eddie glanced over at him in small intervals, making sure he was okay. Frank knew, though, that Eddie felt just as cold as he had before. He was just trying not to show it.

“What brought you to the bodega so early?” Eddie asked, tilting his head. Frank stumbled over his words, clearing his throat.

“I was simply on my morning walk before those two hooligans interrupted me,” he remarked, shaking his head. “It’s never a moment of peace when Barnaby is nearby.”

“Oh, you know he’s just playing around!” Eddie nudged Frank. “You can’t be too mad at the guy!”

“Hah! Have fun saying that while he toots at you with a vuvuzela all night!” he waved Eddie’s words off, a small smirk on his face.

“Well, that might not be mighty pleasant,” he chuckled, “But I know he just wants to make you laugh. Honest!”

“Well, he is doing a very bad job!”

Eddie stopped and let out a small laugh, moving to cover his mouth. Frank was awfully cute. Even if he was a little angry. It seemed that he had felt the same way about Eddie, as their eyes lingered together for just a moment longer before continuing to walk.

“Say, Frank,” he began, digging into his messenger bag, “While you’re here, I suppose I should deliver your mail to you!”

“Oh? What letters have I been written today?” Frank crossed his arms, but not before nuzzling into Eddie’s jacket more.

“Looks like you’ve got one from Julie, aaand…one with no name on it!”

“Huh? No name?”

“Seems like you’ve got a secret penpal,” Eddie scratched his neck, grinning, “Or maybe just a forgetful one.”

“A…secret penpal?” Frank raised his eyebrow, “You wouldn’t mind telling me who, would you?”

“No-can-do, Frank! Secret’s a secret, even from me!”

“Right,” he sighed, taking the envelope from Eddie and turning it over in his hands. It was a vibrant, glittery blue, glinting in his eye with the slow-rising sun that had graciously begun highlighting the shine. How curious. A letter for him? With no sender? This had to be fishy.

“Thank you,” Frank nodded, taking the other letter and tucking both under his arm. “I’ll be sure to write back. If I figure out who to address, that is.”

“Wonderful!” he smiled, stopping as they finally reached Frank’s doorstep. “Well, it looks like my delivery has been completed, Mister Frankly. You’re home!”

“It appears I am,” he remarked, sinking back into the jacket before looking down dejectedly. “I—suppose this means I should give you your coat back, right, Mister Dear?”

Eddie looked him over once again, a soft smile coming to his features. Frank met his eyes reluctantly, but quickly looked away once the nerves got to him. As he moved to take it off, Eddie held a hand up to stop him.

“You can keep it,” he offered, his voice gentle and quiet.

“Wh…what?” Frank’s eyes went wide, his brow turning up in surprise, “Really?”

“Well, why not?” he shrugged, “I have plenty at home—and I could just grab more from the main station if need be.”

“I—“ He looked down at himself, wrapping himself tighter in the fabric, “—Thank you, Eddie. Truly.”

His gaze lingered on Frank for a moment longer before he nodded, turning away to continue on his mail route. Frank watched as he left, gingerly entering his house and moving to sit on his sofa after throwing the mail onto the table. He could barely find the words to rationalize what had just happened, all he could do was sit and rub his cheek against the soft fur of Eddie’s—or, now his—coat.

It all still felt unbelievable to him. Being in that coat was the closest he had ever felt to Eddie, and now it was his? That was just too wonderful of a gift. It wasn’t every day the mail-man gave out his uniforms.

A small smile cracked on his face as he stuck his nose into the collar. Oh, it smelled just like him. It smelled just like Eddie. He couldn’t help but kick his feet, burying his face deeper in the fabric and flopping down on his side. It made him feel so giddy, so dizzy, and so, so very warm. He never wanted to take it off. But if he never did, then Eddie’s smell would fade away! ‘Twas a lose-lose situation. As sad as it made him, he knew he had to set it aside until the day was done.

…But maybe he would keep it on a little longer. It wouldn’t hurt, after all.

As Frank shifted, he felt the envelope in his vest crumple. Right. Eddie’s letter. Well, now he had two things making his mood happier than usual!

He sat up, opening his vest and taking the envelope out. It was slightly crumpled, but not enough to irritate him too badly. Reading through the letter, he could notice the slightly odd manner in which it had been written. Eddie’s usually neat penmanship seemed to be shaky, with small pools of ink accumulated at the ends of each letter, as if he was stuck thinking. The Eddie he knew always paid attention to details—even the minor ones. Perhaps he was preoccupied with something? Or perhaps not. Perhaps he was thinking too much.

Eddie did ask the question back, though. Would it reveal too much for him to share that information? Well, if he wanted it to work, he unfortunately had to.

Frank moved to stand, setting the letter down on the counter and letting out a breath. As he hugged himself deeper into the fabric, something caught the corner of his eye. It was that mysterious blue letter, sitting sparkly right on top of his table cloth. The idea of its origin was all-too bizarre for Frank to take seriously. Hah! a letter without a sender? Now why in the world would anyone pay any mind to that?

Well…Eddie did, after all. Hum.

Frank approached the table gingerly, reaching out a hesitant hand and picking it up. It certainly had his name on it, as well as…oh, wow. What a beautiful swallowtail stamp. Whoever wrote this certainly had exquisite taste in butterflies. Maybe, if he pried it off gently enough, he could even gift it to Eddie.

Oh, but perhaps that would be rude. Reusing a stamp seemed too foolish! Surely Eddie would be insulted!

Frank pried the sticker seal of the letter off, lifting the flap to reveal a delicately folded note. The creases seemed to be carefully thought out, with not a single one out of place. As he unfolded the paper, he took note of the bright purple ink that was used. It wasn’t a writing style he was particularly familiar with—but then again, it wasn’t often that he exchanged letters with the other neighbors. If he compared it to other notes he had saved, maybe he could find it’s rightful writer.

Oh, Frank! You can do that later! Now, let’s see what this ‘penpal’ had to say.

“To Frank Frankly,” he began with a nod, “For long I have thought about you,”

“From the flowers in your garden…to the butterfly in…your bowtie…”

Wait. Huh?

“…You have been the apple of my eye. This is why, I’ve reached high, and I’m sending you this here letter. Maybe you could send one back, if you feel so inclined?”

Oh, nonononononono!

Frank felt himself tense up. Suddenly, this scenario made much more sense. Was this a confession of some sort? But from who? It certainly wasn’t from Julie, that was for sure. Oh, this just got all too complicated!

Folding the letter, Frank stuffed it back into the envelope and set it aside, moving to plant his hands on his cheeks and shake his head. If he wanted to write a response, he wanted to get an idea of who he was talking to, first. Maybe then, he could choose to accept or deny their proposition!

Actually, what was the point? If it was anyone but Eddie, he would probably reject it anyway. But then again, why in the world would it be Eddie? It would be awfully dull of him to be wasting paper like that.

Oh, but if it was Eddie, then they would both be sending each other notes for no reason! But…that also meant that Eddie liked him back.

There were butterflies in his stomach now. If he wanted to figure out who this was, he had to do it right. He just had to figure out who it wasn’t, first.

Frank all-but glided to his desk, pulling out the chair and swiftly sitting down. Flipping open the pages of his notebook, he began to draw out a chart of the neighbors.

It couldn’t have been Julie, of course. The two of them were the bestest of friends. If she had feelings, she would have told him in a different way. Not to mention her thing for Sally.

Speaking of Sally, Frank crossed her off the list, too. The two of them never quite fit together, and he had a feeling Sally also shared some of Julie’s sentiments. It couldn’t have been Poppy, either. She wasn’t one to fancy men. And he could definitely cross Home off the list. Oh! And Barnaby. They butted heads too much for it to be true.

So that left him with…Wally, Howdy, and Eddie.

…But why would it be Wally? He was a sweetheart, of course, but that felt all-too unexpected and unlikely. And what was it Julie said about Howdy? That she didn’t think he would respond, or something? Did that mean anything? Then again, he and Barnaby were acting very oddly at the bodega earlier. Did the two of them have business together?

Well, at least he had a list now. Either Eddie, Wally, or Howdy. In that order.

Frank moved to stand from his desk, stretching. He didn’t want to let it bother him too much—he had things to do! It was still morning, after all, and he hadn’t even had breakfast yet!

He made his way to his kitchen, pulling the blinds on his window open and looking out to see the pale, warm complexion of the neighborhood. And there Eddie was, talking to Poppy on his mail route. Just seeing him there made his chest flutter, and when the two met eyes, he couldn’t help but smile and watch as Eddie waved. For a moment, he looked surprised, but he returned the same sweet expression, holding his flushed face in his hands and turning back to Poppy.

You know what? Yeah. Maybe that letter was from Eddie. He knew it was stupid to guess that, but he would let himself believe it. At least for a few minutes.

Chapter Text

If it wasn’t for seeing him still in that jacket, it was surely that smile that made Eddie giddy. As if the butterflies in his stomach weren’t enough, he could barely even continue to speak to Poppy without covering his face and gushing. She found it absolutely adorable how flustered he got from such a short interaction. From a distance, it almost looked like Frank had been wrapped up in Eddie’s coat. It warmed her heart to see young love blossom.

“As I was saying, Poppy,” Eddie began quietly, taking a shaky step forward to continue their walk, “I really do think it’s him! Didn’t you just see the way he looked at me?”

“Of course I did, Dear,” she smiled, “Why, I haven’t seen Frank that happy since Julie took him to that butterfly meadow.”

“The butterfly meadow!” Eddie slammed his fist into his palm, “What if I took him there?”

“Well, I don’t see why not, darlin’.”

“Thank you for the idea, Miss Partridge,” he waved at her, speeding up his steps, “I’ll be sure to help you with that cheesecake later! Just gotta drop off one last letter to Sally’s!”

———

“Wait, what do you mean, Barnaby?”

Howdy and Barnaby were chatting quietly in the store, careful to keep their voices hushed as to not disturb the patrons shopping around. As always, Barnaby was leaned on the counter, elbows resting atop the shiny surface.

“What I mean, is that we gotta find a way to get those two together!” he began, fiddling with his pipe, “And Sally’s play is perfect for it!”

“What’s it about, anyhow?” Howdy asked, dusting off his shelf, “I don’t think I’m all too caught up on her stories just yet.”

“I think its about…some country bumpkin and a big-city actress?” he moved to scratch under his hat. “Anywho, the two get married. At least from what I’ve overheard.”

“Married, hm?” Howdy moved to scratch his chin, “I like the sound of that. Has the casting call gone out yet? Maybe we could talk to Sally!”

“Not sure if it has,” Barnaby turned his head to look at the rest of the bodega, his eyes jumping between customers, ”And I don’t think Sally has quite forgiven me for putting that hole in her stage yet.”

“I told you, the balance ball needed more air,” Howdy chuckled, pressing a hand to his cheek, “It took almost the whole neighborhood to fix it. We even had to call in Bea for backup!”

“It was worth it, though!” Barnaby beamed, his expression softening as he watched Howdy laugh. for almost a split second, you could see his smile falter, a twinge of heartache glazing over his eyes before being quickly replaced with a more pensive expression. “If we decide to do this, you’ve gotta’ be the one to talk to her, Howds’.”

“Gosh, are you sure?” he raised an eyebrow, “When would I do that?”

Barnaby looked around again, his eyes landing on Wally. “Say, when’s your next break?”

“In about an hour, why?” Howdy asked, setting down his feather duster and picking up his broom.

“An hour? I can’t wait that long!” he shook his head, “What if we got someone else to man the ship for a second? Maybe Wally over there?”

“Huh? The shrimp?” he moved to rub the back of his neck, “I don’t think he knows how to run a bodega, Barnaby.”

“Well, maybe he knows how to run a bug-dega,” Barnaby joked, watching as Howdy began to giggle.

“Oh, you’re so funny, Mister Beagle!” he waved the idea off, “But why don’t we just wait for my break? An hour goes by fast when you’re working hard!”

“Well, I suppose you’ve got a point,” he shrugged, watching as Wally approached with an apple and a tube of paint. Howdy clasped his hands together, putting on a bright smile as he approached the counter.

“Why, hello there, Mister Darling!” he greeted, “Got a joke prepped this time?”

“Of course I do, Howdy!” he smiled. But then his brow seemed to furrow as he brought a finger to his chin.

“Uh oh. You forget it again, buddy?” Barnaby asked.

“I’m sorry,” he smiled bashfully, “Just give me one minute. I’m sure it’ll all come back to me.”

…

About five minutes had passed. Howdy’s smile began to waver slightly, and there was a few customers watching as Wally struggled to remember.

All of a sudden, Howdy let out a laugh of disbelief. “You’re takin’ so long that I think my bananas are starting to spoil, Walls’!”

“Oh, no! Just one more minute Howdy, I promise I’ve almost got it!”

“No worries,” Barnaby moved to nudge Wally, “I’ve got you covered, little guy.”

“Thank you, Barnaby,” he looked down, defeated. For a moment, Howdy felt bad for him.

“Aw, cheer up, shrimp,” he began, leaning over the counter and patting Wally on the head, “You’ll get it one of these days.”

The two waved him off as he exited the store, Julie approaching the counter with a bundle of craft supplies in her basket. Frank was behind her, holding yet another basket as well as a number of tea boxes under his arm.

“Well, looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Barnaby chuckled. “Say, why don’t you whip me up a ‘dog after this?”

“One ballpark hotdog coming up in the queue!” Howdy saluted, turning to Julie. “Now, Miss Joyful, what have you got in stock for me?”

———

“You sure this is gonna work, Barn’?” Howdy asked as he flipped the open sign. “Would Sally be okay with this?”

“Only one way to find out, Howds’,” he shrugged, moving to hold the door open for the caterpillar. Howdy gingerly locked the bodega once they were both out, reaching a hand to hold Barnaby’s paw. He obliged, his shoulders stiffening before he let out a quick sigh and put on a straight face.

This was totally normal. They were just gonna head to Sally’s, talk to her, and then get the show on the road. But for some reason, Barnaby felt nervous. He wanted to say something to Howdy, but at the same time, he didn’t. Oh, this wasn’t about him! There was a relationship in need of match-making!

It seemed that Eddie had just begun to leave Sally’s mailbox as they rounded the corner, hiding behind a bush as to make sure they weren’t spotted. Home had given them a very confused shingle-shutter as it watched the two creep around its yard, trailing behind one another for enough until Eddie was out of sight. It looked like he was headed towards Poppy’s house. With how long their baking-dates usually lasted, they knew they would have more than enough time.

It was Howdy first who moved from the hedges, taking Barnaby’s hand and leading the two of them to Sally’s. Before he could knock, however, the door opened with a gentle whirr of hinges, nearly startling the two off their feet. All she could do was look at them confused until she met eyes with Barnaby, her smile quickly turning into a frown.

“Mister Beagle,” She scoffed, turning her nose up.

“Heya there, Sally,” he muttered, tilting his hat, “How are ya’?”

“I was having a good day until I remembered the garish, dog-shaped patch in my stage,” she moved to pick at her fingers, raising her eyebrow as her eyes lingered to Howdy. “Caterpillar? What brings you out of the bodega at this hour?”

“Well, Sally,” he began, scratching the back of his neck, “Me and Barnaby had a bit of a favor to ask of you.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” her expression quickly changed back to a smile, “Come on in! You’re always welcome in my humble abode, Sir Pillar!”

“Can Barnaby come?” he asked, gesturing towards the beagle.

“Hmm,” she thought, looking him up and down. “As long as he promises not to break anything, then I suppose he can come, too.”

“You have my word, Sally,” he placed a hand on his chest, nodding and tipping his hat once more.

The group followed Sally into her home, nearly crawling on all fours (or, alternatively, all eights) to fit through the entrances that were very clearly not designed with such large guests in mind. five-foot height differences were weird sometimes. But, relief came as they all entered her theater, stretching out and settling down.

“‘Feels like this place gets bigger and bigger every time I stop by,” Barnaby began, moving to sit down in the aisle.

“Except for the doorways, of course,” Howdy grunted, stretching his neck, “Those just seem to be getting smaller and smaller.”

“Maybe you’re just getting taller, Howdy!” Sally offered, moving to sit across from Barnaby in one of the chairs. She watched as Howdy took his place next to his friend, leaning on his shoulder. The twitch in Barnaby’s eye was just barely noticeable, but Sally picked up on it as soon as it rustled his blue fur. She wondered what that was about.

“So,” Howdy began, twiddling his thumbs, “Barnaby—or, we—had an idea for your play. The one you’ve been working on.”

“And we were wonderin’ if you’d be willing to hear it out?”

“Hmmm,” she thought for a moment cringing. “It’s not an impromptu comedy standup, is it?”

“Oh nononono!” Barnaby quickly assured, “Not at all, Salls’.”

“Then? Out with it, Beagle!”

“We think you should cast Eddie and Frank in your play!”

There was a long, silent pause as Sally’s face ran through a range of emotions. At first it was shock, then confusion, then anger, then…confusion again, then curiosity.

“…Why?”

“Well,” Howdy began, “Me and Barnaby here have picked up on a little bit of neighborhood-drama, per se…and—“

“—And we wanted to play matchmaker to get them together.”

Again, her face went through a range of emotions. Shock, to confusion, to shock again, to startled, to…yeah, you get the idea.

“Eddie? and the Frankly?” she said, almost appalled, “Since when?!”

“Since a few days ago,” Howdy admitted, “But get this—!”

“—Eddie gave Frank his coat today.”

“Wha—“ her mouth hung agape, “Whaaat?!”

“I know!”

“That’s why we need to get them together!” Barnaby slammed his fist into the palm of his hand, “And your play is the perfect scapegoat to do so!”

“A scapegoat, hm?” she pondered, “I *was* going to have this play be me and…someone else’s thing, but…”

The two eagerly awaited her response as she took another moment to think.

“This idea? I like it much…much more.” A devious smile came to her face as she rubbed her hands together, thinking. Soon, Sally sprung up out of her seat, spinning on her heel and dashing towards a box by the stage.

“So…Is that a yes?”

“Consider it an absolutely!” she shouted from the other side of the theater, two scripts tucked into her arm. “No time to waste, boys! We have a mailman to catch!”

———

Ah, yes. Howdy, Barnaby and Sally. Certainly a trio that was rarely, if ever, seen perusing the streets of Home. But this time, it seemed they were all on a mission. A mission for matchmaking!

Sally sped her way past the two of them, marching to the doorstep of Poppy’s and waiting for the two to catch up rather impatiently. Barnaby remembered seeing Eddie head in that direction, and it would only make sense that the two were still baking. Pastries took a while.

And sure enough, as Sally knocked on the door, they were met face-to-face with the mailman himself! He seemed both confused and concerned as to why such a peculiar trio had landed itself at the barn.

“My, Poppy, I didn’t know you were expectin’ guests,” he smiled, “What brings you three over today?”

“We have a proposition for you,” Sally smiled slyly, moving to hold a script in her hand. “Say, remember when you read that play over with me, Dearest?”

“Hm? Oh, I believe I do! You need any more help with it?”

“I do, actually,” she nodded, carefully handing him the bundle of papers. “You see, Sir Dearie, I thought you were such a perfect fit for Carmen, that I’ve decided to formally invite you to fill the shoes of her role!”

“Gosh, you want me to play Carmen?” he blurted in surprise, “It’s been quite a while since I’ve played a woman. I’d have to get my dresses out of the closet, first!”

“No need, Eddie,” she waved the idea away. “I just decided! How about, instead of Charlotte and Carmen, we do Charles and Cameron? Would that be easier?”

“My, much easier!” Eddie smiled, wrapping his (new) coat tighter around himself. “I’d be honored to be in your play! But, uh, would you like to come in? It’s kinda’ cold out, Sally.”

“No need! We’ll be on our way!”

“Eddie?” Poppy’s head popped into the doorway, her eyes widening with surprise and nervousness, “My, did you all stop by for some cheesecake?”

“Only if you’re offerin’, Pops’,” Barnaby chuckled. “I’m feelin’ a little hungry if I do say so myself.”

“Silence, Beagle!” Sally put a hand up to stop him, “We have a job to do!”

Sally nearly tugged the two off of Poppy’s doormat, leaving two very confused neighbors behind. Well, at least they now had something to talk about while cleaning up.

The trio continued their walk—with Sally leading, of course. Barnaby stayed by the back of the group, his eyes drifting around the brightly-colored blends of Home. The golden bushes, the reddening trees, all of it mixed together into the background, creating a beautiful and welcoming piece of scenery. What a wonderful place to live.

“Barnaby B. Beagle!” Sally shouted, snapping him from his thoughts, “Did you hear that? The plan?”

“Erm…Yeah!” he quickly blurted, meeting quick glances with Howdy. “But why don’t you explain it one more time? Just to make sure I’ve *really* got it?”

Sally let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “Okay you two, new plan. Howdy! You and Barnaby just stay behind over on the street, and I’ll talk to the Frankly! Sound like a deal?”

“You got it, Miss Starlet!” Howdy smiled, walking towards the other side of the dirt path and pulling Barnaby along. The two situated themselves and watched as Sally knocked on the door, quickly conversing with Frank.

“Isn’t this exciting, Barnaby?” Howdy smiled, “We’re actually doing it! We’re actually matchmaking!”

“Psh. Tell me about it,” Barnaby snorted, moving to look down at the ground with a soft grin of his own. His expression turned to one of shock, though, as he felt Howdy pull his hands up between their chests.

“Love is in the air! Oh, sometimes I wish I had a special someone like that, don’t you?”

“I..I do,” He commented, looking down and away. A nervous expression came to his face as he brought his gaze back up to meet Howdy’s, his hands tightening in their grip. It took him a few seconds to compose himself, but soon enough, he continued.

“Y’know…it doesn’t gotta’ be just a wish, Howds’.”

Howdy’s smile faltered. It was obvious for a moment, until he let out an awkward chuckle.

“I—,” he began quietly, “—I don’t get the joke, Barnaby.”

“Howdy,” He seemed frozen for a moment, sucking in a breath. It was now or never. If he didn’t say it, he knew he never would.

“What?”

“I’m not—What I mean is that—“ he took a breath, “Maybe…Y’know, if you were ever lookin’…I could uh—free up a spot for ya’.”

“Free up a spot?” he chuckled, “My, aren’t you the busy dog!”

“No, No!” he felt his voice grow strained, his chest tightening as the words fell out with a stutter. “Howdy, I mean that—! Maybe—you and me! We could—“

Howdy’s laughter began to erupt as he saw just how flustered he was getting. Barnaby felt his face go hot, stepping away. There was a tightness in his throat that stifled him, almost suffocating him, as he looked back at Howdy with a desperate fear in his eyes. Still, he continued to laugh, and he had to force himself to tear through his lungs with a shrill, painful breath.

You stupid dog. You should have known it was a bad idea.

How would Howdy know what you were trying to say?  You never talked like this.

Of course he thought it was a joke. Just another one of your silly jokes.

That was all it was to him.

That was all you were to him.

“Oh, you are always the comedian, Mister Beagle!” he continued to giggle, placing a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder to steady himself. “For a second, I thought you were being serious!”

But as he looked up, he noticed something paralyzing.

Barnaby wasn’t laughing.

He wasn’t even smiling.

Howdy’s expression immediately turned to one of horror at the realization of what he had just done. His grip on Barnaby loosened, and he stepped away gingerly. Even Sally and Frank had begun paying attention, pausing their conversation to quietly look on. If Barnaby hadn’t felt embarrassed, he sure did now.

“Are you two…okay over there?” Frank asked, furrowing his brow.

“All good!” Barnaby quickly assured, straightening himself up and brushing the pained expression off of his face. It was disorienting how quickly he managed to compose himself, how quickly he managed to push all of his feelings down inside. Had he been doing that the whole time? Was Barnaby trying to be…serious with him?

“Listen,” he scoffed, pulling his pipe out, “I think I’m all match-made up for today. I’m goin’ home.”

“Barnaby—”

“Good-bye, Mister Pillar.”

Sally walked over to Howdy, very clearly confused by what just happened. Frank stayed by his door, clasping his hands together and rocking back and forth on his heels.

“What did you do? she asked. “I’ve never seen Barnaby upset like that. At all. Ever.”

“I think…he was trying to tell me something,” Howdy scratched the back of his neck and stared in the direction of Barnaby’s home. That wasn’t right. He shouldn’t have laughed. He was trying to say something important.

“Well? Go talk to him!” she pushed, “As much as the Beagle miffs me, I don’t want you to ruin your friendship!”

“What about matchmaking?”

“I’ve got it! Now go!”

Nearly tripping on his feet, Howdy found himself racing to Barnaby’s. He needed to fix this. How couldn’t he have known? Gosh, he felt like an idiot now! Of course he didn’t get the joke—there was no joke to get!

Howdy rounded the corner to Barnaby’s porch just as he had opened his door, moving to enter inside before a voice stopped him.

“Barnaby! Wait, let’s talk!” Howdy pleaded, nearly out of breath. But it seemed that he had already resigned, his pipe lit and his back turned.

“Barnaby—“

“Go home, Howdy.”

And just like that, the door was shut.

…

Stupid caterpillar.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t every day Frank Frankly was invited to be the lead in a play. In fact, when he had heard it, he almost felt tempted to turn down the offer. It wasn’t until Sally mentioned Eddie’s name that he started to pay attention, curious as to why she of all people would want the two of them to be acting together. Alas, he chose to think it over, planning to ring her before rehearsal with an answer.

The night was cold. Small flurries of snow had already begun to show themselves, coating Home in a thin blanket of frost. The crackling of the radiator was the only thing keeping him company at that moment, filling the library with much-needed noise in the wake of Julie’s absence. But still, the house felt empty, in need of distraction. Perhaps…in need of music!

Frank dusted his phonograph, as was his nightly tradition, and popped in a vinyl. It was a quiet tune, a tune with a calming and repetitive piano melody, accompanied by the static all records brought along. A beautiful accompaniment joined the main notes, creating a warm and full sound that dissipated the vacancy in the air. With a cup of midnight rose and a freshly dipped fountain pen, he sat at his desk and cracked his notebook open to a brand-new page.

quite a few letters were to be written that night. Julie had sent him an inquiry on his best recipe for strawberry pudding, which part of him suspected was only so Eddie would visit. Then, there was the red letter, and then that strange blue one.

He still hadn’t been able to deduce who could have written it, but watching the drama between Barnaby and Howdy unfold moved the latter a lot lower on the list. That left all but Wally and Eddie. Well, whoever it was, he knew it was only a matter of time until he found out.

Regardless, Frank began to write. His pen scratched against the paper, sending an occasional shiver down his back as the sound pecked at him. All he could do was focus on the music echoing in the background, doing his best to keep himself sane.

With a signature and a sip of tea, his first letter was done. And with a second, more tender sign-off, his letter to Eddie was complete. It was truly that third letter that stumped him.

Frank let out a heavy sigh, moving to lean back in his chair and stare up at the wall. Butterflies of all colors and sized gazed back at him, forever posed in perfect poise for all the world to see. What a cruel fate to be flawless, was it not? But it was always the heavier hand that came down on the imperfect, on the rudimentary. As much comfort as the framed critters brought him, he felt he couldn’t write while under their presence.

Frank collected his notebook along with the letter and grabbed himself a ballpoint pen, taking in a deep breath and pushing his chair back into his desk. Perhaps some time outside would help him collect his thoughts.

———

It was never common for Frank to take a late-night walk, but this was a special occasion. There was a lot for him to think about, a lot of decisions left for him to make.

The atmosphere was quiet and still, disturbed only by the tufts of snow that gently dusted the town. A soft, golden light filled the space of his walkway as his door clicked open, his shadow disrupting the hazy wisps from reaching the ground in front of him. As he shut his door, he was left with nothing but a soothing darkness that curled around his ankles and licked at the creases in his new coat.

The jacket felt heavy on him, although that was to be expected. Eddie was a larger puppet, and the insulation inside only added more weight to pull around. But, even though it should have bothered him, he didn’t mind it. The coat was a gift—a gift that he cherished.

With a shaking step, Frank began his way to the street, tucking his pen into the pocket of his robe and slipping his notebook into the folds. As awkward as he felt in only his pajamas, he didn’t quite have the energy to change out of them. He was tired and cold. All he could do was walk, circling around empty streets as the flurries gently soaked into his felt.

It was strange. He had gotten so used to seeing Home in the morning, that seeing it at night just perplexed him. There was no birdsong, no gentle hue, just darkness and the quiet.

Frank raised his eyes up to the stars. The moon was full that night, casting a subtle glow against his features. He found it beautiful, absolutely mesmerizing, how harmonious the heavens danced above. It was a symphony of thousands of performers, all glistening in their own spotlights. He wondered how many of them knew of their little town, how many of them knew of Sally. She was one of them, after all. Did they cast her out? Did she choose to leave? Perhaps he would ask tomorrow, when he called.

Frank was taken out of his thoughts by a sudden collision. He felt something bump into his chest, and with a thud he tried to guess what it could have been. As a cloud parted its way, he noticed the top of a messy pompadour, gently highlighted with periwinkle streaks. 

“…Wally?” Frank asked, his voice barely a whisper as he held out a hand. He could feel a smaller palm place pressure on him, gently pulling up from off of the dirt. In the dark environment, Frank could make out the eyes of his neighbor, who stared up at him with that same curiosity.

“Frank?” Wally asked, slightly bewildered, “What are you doing up? You’re never out this late.”

“I…could ask the same about you,” he looked away, moving to hold the front of his jacket closed. Wally didn’t respond, he merely chose to look to the side and move to stand by Frank. It was obvious there was something bothering him, but knowing Wally, he figured not to pry. It was never good to pester people, much less a puppet like him.

The two continued their walk together in silence, until Frank gently spoke up.

“Do you…always go on nightly walks like this?”

“Only to relax,” he spoke quietly, his monotonous voice casting a delicate echo against Poppy’s barn. Frank nodded, moving to look back up at the stars and letting Wally’s small hand guide him.

“And what about you?” he asked, “I’ve never seen you out here before, Frank.”

“I’m more of a morning walker,” Frank shook his head. “But tonight…oh, I wouldn’t want to bother.”

“We can talk about it, if you’d like,” Wally offered, turning to meet eyes with Frank. “The least I could do is listen, after all you’ve done for me.”

There was a certain desperation in his tone as he spoke, a longing for a distraction, almost, that set off a melancholy sense of pity inside of him. As bashful as he felt, he knew he needed to help. And if sharing secrets was necessary, then…it had to be done. At least he knew Wally wouldn’t tell anyone.

“Well,” Frank began softly, “Today was…a day. Eddie gifted me his coat…I got invited to act in a play…and I have a new dilemma in my mailbox.”

Wally nodded along to his words, guiding the two of them to the space behind Home. Careful not to snag himself on the berry bushes, he sat down, patting the space next to him for Frank to do the same. He moved to do so, wrapping the coat tighter around himself and nuzzling into the fluff.

“A mailbox problem?” he asked quietly, tilting his head.

“Wally…can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Frank.”

He was silent for a moment, but only for a moment, until he continued gingerly.

“I think I like someone, Wally. I think I like them a lot.”

“You like someone?”

“Ye—yeah. I think so.”

“Like…how I like Barnaby? And you?”

“Not quite…”

Another moment of silence lingered between the two of them as Wally processed the information given to him.

“How do you like them?”

“It’s—“

Frank thought for a moment. It was almost a jumble in his mind, a striking mandala of ideas and hopes that only seemed to grow fuzzy with focus. But there was one thought that he clung onto, one wish that seemed to stick.

“I like him in the way that…I want to hold his hand.” he spoke, his voice almost shaking. He felt as if his heart were about to burst, his eyes pricked with stings as he continued to stare up at that pale moon. “Like I want him to linger at my door, like I want him to wait for me.”

As his voice trailed off, Wally continued to watch and nod.

“I want him to…to…”

Frank felt his hand tracing his mouth in an almost subconscious manner, the other clutched over his notebook. Just imagining it made his heart race, feeling his strong embrace on his back and his warm hand against his cheek. It was enough to make him tear up, the longing in his chest aching and panging at him. As his breaths grew ragged, Wally took his hands and gently began to massage them. In his blurry vision, Frank noticed that he had scooted in front of him, a tired expression prominent on his ever-smiling face.

“I’m—sorry, Wally,” Frank looked away, ashamed. “I got ahead of myself there.”

“Not at all, Frank,” he reassured, continuing to massage.

There was more quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet. It was comforting, understanding, almost.

“I don’t think I quite get this meaning of like,” he continued on, “But I know that this person, whoever he may be, sounds very special to you.”

“He is very special to me,” Frank let out a weak chuckle, his voice soaked in sadness, “But…I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

“I—“

It was a question he struggled to answer, even on his own. He had no reason to worry, no reason to stress over it. If the blue letter was really from Eddie, which seemed a lot more likely now, then that would mean he reciprocated. He had to be happy about that, right?

No, that wasn’t right.

“I don’t think I’m good at being…good.”

“What do you mean, Frank?”

“I mean that—“ his breath hitched in his throat, “I’m afraid he won’t like me if he gets to know me.”

“Gets to know you? But Frank, everybody knows you. Even Barnaby’s mother knows you.”

“I don’t think you understand, Wally.”

“I don’t think I understand, either.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that lingered between the two of them, as Wally played with the cuffs of his coat and as Frank continued to stargaze.

“What I’m trying to say,” he began again, “Is that he knows me, but not like Julie knows me, you know? Not like how Barnaby knows you.”

“And what about it?”

“I’m scared that, if he knows me…he won’t be so enthused.”

More silence, as Wally processed what he said.

“I’m sure that won’t happen, neighbor.”

The warmth of his hands was the only thing keeping Frank conscious at that moment. The massage helped him focus on his words, on his thoughts.

“Thank you for telling me,” he all-but whispered, bowing his head down.

“Thank you…for listening.”

The two of them remained curled up outside. Wally scooted back to Frank’s side, leaning his head on his shoulder and nuzzling his arm into a soft embrace.

This was nice. It was cold, but it was nice.

Frank’s eyelids felt heavy. It was getting hard to stay awake. What time was it, anyhow? The clock tower was too far away for him to see. But it had to have been late. Very late.

As much as he wanted to get up and go home, he couldn’t. He could barely muster up the courage to stand, with how exhausted he felt.

Maybe he would let himself rest a bit. Maybe this was for the best.

As all last moments of lucidity slipped away from him, Frank slumped over. 

While sleeping in the snow was not ideal, it felt okay. 

At least to him.

Chapter Text

It had been a long while since Eddie found himself on a stage, but he welcomed the feeling nonetheless. Alongside him lay Sally, kicking her feet and scribbling out the old names of each character. Out of curiosity, he watched, his legs crossed and his hands in his lap twiddling nervously.

“I woulda’ been fine as Carmen, Sally,” he tried to reason, feeling bad for making her go through all the trouble.

“Nonsense! While you may feel comfort, The Fr—erm—Frank most definitely would not have!”

“I suppose you’re right,” he nodded, looking away and to the entrance of the auditorium. He had to admit, he was nervous. This was a direct confrontation with Frank, and a very romantically-coded one at that. He wanted to do things right, to make sure he didn’t feel at all uncomfortable. But still, the fear lingered that he would somehow mess it up.

“Did Frank ever call you, Sally?” Eddie asked, shifting to sit on his knees.

“Hm?” she turned her head to look at him. “He didn’t, no. But I know he wants to, his heart cannot deny it!”

“I hope you’re right.”

Sally noticed his dejected expression and sat up, wrapping an arm around him. He accepted her invitation, moving to fiddle with his bag.

If Eddie was being honest, he wasn’t having a happy day. Much to his dismay, there were no envelopes waiting for him by the mailbox in the morning, and there was no response as he approached Frank’s home with his letters. Had he been too forward with the jacket? Did he already manage to overwhelm the poor guy? Gosh, he hoped not. He really needed to ask Poppy for some advice. She would know what to do.

“You seem to be awfully worried about him,” Sally spoke quietly, moving to lay her head in his lap. Gently, Eddie brought a hand up to stroke her rays, rubbing the tips of his fingers on the pointed edges in order to ground himself and his thoughts.

“I wouldn’t be a good neighbor if I didn’t worry,” he responded quietly. “I care about him just as much as I care about you, or Wally or Howdy.”

Sally nodded, willing to accept that response. 

….

“He’s thirty minutes late, you know.”

“I know.”

“And Frank is absolutely never late.”

“I…I know,” Eddie looked down to the side, moving to fidget with his tie. Even if Frank was unhappy with him, it was never like him to be so…absent. It scared him.

“Perhaps I should give him a call!” Sally chimed, hopping up and running to the phone she had plugged in at the corner of the stage. With a few twists of the dial, she had herself a tone. It rang, and rang…and rang…but there was no response.

With sad eyes Sally turned to look at Eddie, who seemed as if he were about to burst into tears.

“I’m sorry, Dearie,” she spoke softly, moving to sit down and hug him, “But it doesn’t seem like he’s available right now.”

After a moment of silence Eddie shook his head, a frown forming on his face. He pushed away from Sally as he spoke, standing up and slipping his coat and messenger bag back on.

“No,” he spat sternly, a look of determination on his face. “I know Frank, Sally.”

“Eddie—“

“Somethin’s wrong. I know somethin’s wrong. Frank would never ignore a phone call.”

“Maybe he’s not home, or…or…” she tried to reason, letting out a sigh of defeat as she realized there was no changing his mind.

“Excuse me, Sally,” he turned away, hopping off stage, “But I need to check on him.”

“…Good luck, Dearest.”

———

It was always an oddity seeing snow so early in the year, but it was something Eddie didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he had hardly even paid attention to it. All he could focus on was the dusted, dirt path in front of him, guiding him directly to the top of Frank’s doorstep. With a knock he waited, crossing his arms and anxiously tapping his foot. As his eyes wandered, he noticed another oddity. Frank’s mailbox had been left untouched, the flag still standing in the exact same position it had been raised. Now he knew to be worried.

“Frank?” he knocked again, cupping his hands to speak into the door, “It’s me, Eddie! Are ya’ in there?”

There was no response. As rude as he felt it was, Eddie gathered the letters from his mailbox and tucked them under his arm, putting his hand on the doorknob. There was no resistance as he turned it, clicking open and leaving him feeling even more bewildered. Frank always, always locked his door, no matter what. If he hadn’t done so, if he hadn’t even bothered to pick up his mail, then something terrible must have happened.

He shut the door behind him, noticing the unkempt kitchen he now stood in. There were used teabags sitting in a pile on the counter, torn wrappers strayed about, and a stack of teacups in the sink. tissues were strewn around the table, almost as if they had lazily been tossed aside. The sight was just too much for his heart to bear.

“Frank? Frank Frankly?” he called weakly, slipping off his shoes and setting the contents of the mailbox down on the counter. There was nothing but the crackling heater that responded back to him, and after a few moments he anxiously moved to search around. If he wasn’t panicked before, he sure was now. If Frank had left home, he would have at least picked up his letters.

A creak in the ceiling made him perk his head up from the library. In an almost frantic manner, he all-but clawed his way upstairs, nearly crashing into a wall before steadying himself and looking around. There was a bathroom just down the hall, and another door to his left. 

“Frank?!” he cried desperately, his voice cracking as he swung it open. Inside, he could see Frank nearly jump out of his skin, swiveling back to meet eyes with an incredibly worried Eddie. That concern only seemed to grow as he began to take in the state of the room, and the state of his dear neighbor.

Frank’s hair was ruffled, sticking out in odd places and practically disheveled. There were bags under his eyes, and his once-yellow nose seemed to have an orangey-red tinge to it. He was sluggish in his movements, almost shrinking into the puffy robe he had tightly wrapped on him. It took him a minute to acknowledge what had happened, until he rubbed his eyes and squinted.

“Eddie?” he asked, confused, “Did you just…break into my house?”

“I—well, you left the door unlocked, and—“ he stammered, quickly moving to straighten himself, “Listen! I only came to check up on you. You didn’t show up to rehearsal and I—Sally, got worried.”

“Oh, gosh,” he muttered, turning away and shaking his head. “The rehearsal! It completely slipped my mind. Please send my apologies, I don’t think I can make it today.”

Eddie couldn’t help but stay with his brow furrowed, watching as Frank moved to sit back on the bed and take a sip from a nearby teacup. All he could do was stand and stare. He had never seen Frank quite this scruffy, much less forgetting something so important.

“Erm…” Frank began, noticing Eddie’s staring, “Do you…mind?”

“Are you okay?”

Frank didn’t respond for a few seconds, thinking over an answer to the question. Eventually, he shook his head, letting out a long groan as he slumped over. Eddie approached, crossing his arms and hesitantly sitting next to him.

“I thought so,” he nodded. “You know I hate to be rude, but you’re lookin’ worse than a squashed blueberry.”

“Please, spare me the insults,” he scoffed weakly, flopping down onto his back and bringing the blankets up to his chin.  Eddie scooted closer, placing the back of his hand on his forehead and widening his eyes in shock.

“Gosh, you’re burnin’ up,” he frowned. Frank sighed, turning his head to look away.

“It’s not that bad,” he grumbled, shivering. “I’m fine, Eddie. I just need a few hours, then I’ll be back on my feet.”

“Can’t let ya’ do that, Frank.”

“…What?”

“I can’t,” Eddie shook his head. “You’re stayin’ put until you’re a hundred percent better. Doctor’s orders.”

“…You’re a mailman.”

“Not right now I’m not,” he proclaimed softly, offering a smile and setting his hat down. “I’m not leavin’ until you’re feelin’ all better.”

Frank let out another sigh, nodding in defeat as he continued to shiver. It was clear he didn’t have the strength to fight him on it.

“How did you get this sick, anyhow?” Eddie asked, standing up and shedding his coat.

“Well,” he looked away sheepishly, “I may or may not have fallen asleep in the snow last night.”

“Frank!”

“You asked!”

Eddie let out a long sigh, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Have you at least eaten today?”

No response. Frank just blinked at him, rolling to face the other side of the room.

“I take that as a no,” he moved to hang his coat on the rack in the corner, brushing himself off and stepping back towards the bed. “Does Julie know you’re feelin’ unwell? Should I call her over?”

“No, no!” Frank darted up, grabbing onto Eddie’s hand before he could reach the telephone. “Please, don’t tell Julie. I wouldn’t want to worry her.”

“Well I at least gotta’ tell Sally,” he frowned again, trying to shake his hands off. Still, Frank clung onto his fingers, gently tracing over the creases in his joints as he thought up an answer.

“You won’t tell anyone else but her?”

“No one else but her.”

He continued to trace patterns on Eddie’s felt, grumbling until he finally nodded.

“But don’t do it just yet,” he mumbled. “Give me some time.”

“Of course.”

Eddie gently pulled away from Frank’s grasp, leaving his cold hands bereft of the warmth that he once held. For a moment, it left him in a state of shock, but his mind soon fell back into that gooey, exhausted stupor he had found himself in all morning.

“Do you mind if I use your kitchen, Frank?” Eddie asked softly, walking towards the door and peering over his shoulder. “I’m gonna’ make you somethin’ to eat.”

“Oh—uhm,” he sat up, “Really, Eddie, it’s fine. I can just grab a banana.”

Eddie gave him a stern look, crossing his arms. “No.”

“…no?”

“No.”

Frank blinked at him. “…what if I want a banana?”

“You do not look like you want a banana.”

After a few moments of silence, Frank groaned lowly, flopping back down into his pillow in defeat. “Fine. Please don’t make a mess.”

“I’ll try not to!”

After shutting the door, Eddie made his way downstairs, re-entering the kitchen and analyzing his surroundings. Obviously, he’d have to tidy up. And then it was onto washing the tea cups, and then onto the cooking!

With careful hands, Eddie collected the various pieces of trash laying around, dumping them all into the bin that Frank kept under the sink. How organized of him, he thought. Frank always knew how to stay neat and tidy. For how well put-together he always was, it just made sense for that to translate into his living space.

He too enjoyed staying organized, even if it was difficult at times. He couldn’t count how many times he had left the mailbox open, only to find it filled with leaves or even snow the next day. He was glad that Howdy had reminded him before he had closed up shop last night, but it was weird visiting the bodega without seeing Barnaby around. It felt quieter, emptier. Perhaps he was also under the weather.

Eddie grabbed the sponge from the corner of the sink, gently pumping soap onto its porous surface before squeezing it into the stream of the faucet and getting it to bubble. He nearly trembled as he remained careful, gently scrubbing each porcelain surface of the teacups with as much precision as possible. He’d feel mighty awful breaking such a pretty set. But lucky for him, they were all finished and taken care of in practically no time at all.

His steps guided him graciously around the kitchen, almost dancing him into a pattern of delicate footfalls and silent pitter-patter. There was a pot on the burner now, quietly boiling with water and some extra broth he had found. Lucky for him, Frank’s pantry was all stocked up with fresh ingredients and spices, just enough for him to experiment with.

flurries of snow began to collect on the window sill as Eddie chopped up vegetables, boiling the pieces to make a delicious base. With dashes of salt, pepper, and a few drops of chili sauce, he had himself a lovely soup. The flavor was only added to as he gently scraped in minced garlic and sage, tossing in ground basil and thyme and letting the soup simmer. Once the noodles were poured in, he topped the pot off to cook.

As much joy as cooking such a special meal brought him, Eddie couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia in his chest. This was the soup his mother had always made him, especially on such cold days like what lingered outside. No matter what, whether he was stuck in feverish mindlessness or dealing with a particularly rude stomach bug, she was always sitting right by the bed, spoon in hand and bowl in lap. While it was heavy on his heart that he would never experience such love and care again, it was something he learned to live with. 

But It made him feel warm, knowing that he could finally share those memories with someone. Someone he cared deeply for.

Eddie was careful with the ladle, pouring only a little bit past the half-way mark of the bowl. He had to admit, it had taken him quite some time to figure out where everything was. It took him almost fifteen minutes just to find said bowl. He supposed Frank was more of a plate person. Regardless, Eddie lifted the dish into his hands, cradling it up the stairs until finally reaching the top steps, knocking gently at the door and twisting the handle.

And there Frank was, buried underneath blankets with a pillow on his head. His eyes cracked open with a groan as Eddie stepped closer, pushing himself to sit up and rub his temples.

“Already fallin’ asleep?” Eddie asked with a chuckle, which was only met by a grumble.

“You didn’t have to cook for me,” Frank complained, scooting to let him sit. Eddie simply hushed him with a stony look, setting the bowl in his lap and letting go once he was sure he had a good grip on it. With a shaky hand, Frank lifted the spoon to his mouth, giving Eddie a suspicious glance before slipping it into his mouth.

There were really no words to describe the tightening of Eddie’s chest as he watched Frank’s expression change. His eyes were wide with surprise—disbelief, almost—as the flavor soaked in.

Warm hints of spice and savor filled Frank’s senses, almost overwhelming him with an unfamiliar familiarity that washed over his mind and gently kneaded at his aching body. He wished the moment would have lasted forever, with nothing but the storm outside to perform its asynchronous symphony to all-but perfect the experience. And watching Frank try it was like experiencing childhood all over again, when he would take that first sip and sink into that same comforting warmth. It felt both weird and wonderful to see it with his own eyes.

But even as Frank continued to eat, there was anxiousness there—a nagging fear of judgement. As if, whatever opinions on the soup were had would dictate Frank’s opinions of, well, him. As silly as the thought was, and as shallow as he felt for thinking it, he couldn’t help but let it plague him. But, to his relief, Frank seemed to relax, slipping the spoon down into the bowl gently after a few minutes.

“You’re…a really good chef, Eddie,” Frank spoke, a soft gaze appearing on his face as he peered down into the bowl. “You made all this yourself?”

“Ye—yeah!” Eddie chuckled in slight shock. “Do you like it?”

“I think it’s the best noodle soup I’ve had,” he nodded, meeting eyes with Eddie. He could tell that there was genuine appreciation there, and that gentle smile that slowly grew on his face all-but melted any concerns from Eddie’s head.

“It’s my mom’s recipe,” Eddie began quietly, twiddling his thumbs. “You’re, uh, the first neighbor I’ve shared it with.”

“Well…she’s a wonderful recipe maker.”

And there it was. That big, dopey smile, all spread out on Eddie. Frank could feel his cheeks heat up at the sight of it, at Eddie’s cute, dumb face. There was such a charm to it that made him almost forget his headache, and when Eddie moved to wrap strong arms around him, he felt as if he could take on the world.

“Erm, Frank?” Eddie quickly pushed away, his grin quickly changing to a more embarrassed and apologetic smile. “Sorry. I know you ain’t a big fan of sudden hugs.”

“No, no,” He reassured, picking up his spoon. “It’s okay, Eddie. It was actually…kind of nice.”

And that grin was back.

The two sat and talked for a while, the crackling of the heater being the only thing to accompany their hushed conversations. Eddie never would have expected Frank to be so friendly, to be so much more than, well, frank. It was a whole new side to his neighbor, and a side he only hoped to keep exploring.

But Eddie noticed it, how he would cut himself off before going on a tangent. If only he had the courage to ask him to keep going, to beg him to never stop talking. Any moment spent without hearing his voice was surely a moment wasted. Just to hear him speak, was a blessing he wished to beg for.

Hours had passed, but they seemed to only feel like minutes. The bowl was empty now, the clay cold against the frosted window sill, and there was nothing left outside but a hollow, golden glow that was slowly sinking down.

“I suppose I should let you go to bed,” Eddie chuckled, checking his watch. “Why, It seems like it’s been quite a bit of time since I got here!”

“Since you broke into my house, that is,” Frank corrected him, nudging Eddie with a gentle elbow. If it was up to him, he would have rather pleaded with Eddie to stay, to sleep over. But, he knew that he needed to rest. Actually rest.

“By the way, Eddie,” Frank began nervously, glancing at a pillow once the mailman moved to put his coat and bag on, “I have a letter, do you think you’d be able to take it to your office for me?”

“A letter?” Eddie questioned, tilting his head with a smile, “I don’t see why not, Frank. Did ya’ stamp it?”

“Yes,” he whispered, shaky hands moving to retrieve it from the other side of the bed. “All sealed and stamped for you.”

“Then sure! I’ll be happy to deliver your—“

There was a scarlet envelope held out to him.

“—your letter.”

The silence between them was all but deafening, as Frank trembled with nervousness. Eddie simply stared down in shock, almost unable to process.

There it was. The crimson envelope he had passed on. Right in the hand of the person he had hoped. The fear in Frank’s eyes all-but dissipated as Eddie moved up to match his gaze, smiling softly with a slightly wrinkled squint.

“I’ll be sure to respond to it by tomorrow, Frank,” he spoke warmly. “Just stay here, okay? It’ll be waitin’ for ya’.”

“…Okay, Eddie.”

…

“Thank you.”

———

Epilogue: Phone Call

———

“Heya, Sally?”

“Dearest? Why, it’s quite late! What brings you to my phone at this hour?”

“I found out what’s goin’ on with Frank.”

“Oh? What’s up?”

“He’s gonna’ be out for a few days. Poor bug’s got a bug.”

“Oh goodness! Don’t let him get me sick!”

“I won’t, I won’t!"

“…”

“…”

“Will he be joining us for our play?”

“Yeah, yeah—he will.”

“Wonderful!”

“…”

“Well, did you find the answer you were looking for?”

“I did, Sally. I did.”

Chapter Text

It had been a long while since Frank found himself on a stage, and he absolutely did not like it much at all.

“Sally, are you sure you want me as your lead role? Me, Frank Frankly?” he asked, fiddling with his hands and rocking back and forth on his heels. Sally gave him a confused look, her face quickly changing.

“I don’t know anyone more frank to do the job!” Sally cheered, jumping off stage and grabbing the scripts. “Besides, you have Eddie to help you out!”

Right, Eddie. He was his co-star. There was something fishy about how the two had been paired, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“You’re gonna do great, Frankie!” Julie cheered, climbing her way onstage before taking his hand and pulling him to the center. “I’m here to support you!”

“Don’t call me—oh, never mind,” he sighed. “I wasn’t counting on having an audience today…”

“Well, you have one now!”

“Alright, alright,” Sally hushed. “Julie’s just gonna’ be here to read off some of the other parts, that’s all. And Eddie should be here any minute, so be sure to be on your best behavior!”

“Okay, okay.”

Oh gosh, this was terrifying. Actually terrifying. Frank was about to read out a play, practically alone, with Eddie. This was totally fine, totally normal. 

But as he heard the doors of the auditorium creak open, it quickly became totally not-fine.

“Heya, Sally!” Eddie waved, “Apologies for being’ late, Barnaby needed help getting Wally outta’ a tree again!”

“No worries, Dearie! Just take a seat up here!”

Part of Frank began to wonder why an eight-foot-dog would need the help of a four-foot-mailman, but the more he thought about it, the more confused he got.

Eddie shuffled, taking off his coat and gently folding it up next to his messenger bag. With a few scuffs of his boots, he plopped down right next to Frank, folding his legs in criss-cross style.

“Great!” Sally chimed. “Now that everyone’s here, I have the script for you all! It’s been slightly modified due to some technical difficulties, but it should still be perfectly adequate!”

“Ooh, I’m excited!” Julie smiled, holding a hand out as Sally pressed the binder to her. “You’re always such a good writer, Sally!”

“Why, thank you Miss Joyful!”

“I gotta’ agree with Julie on that one,” Eddie commented, cracking open his script once it was handed to him. “Your last play was a real hoot and a half!”

Frank took his copy with a firm hand, turning it over in his hands before reading the cover aloud to himself. “Moonlight at the Pier? Sally, what’s this about again?”

“Oh, you’ll see!” She smirked, sitting. “I’ll read the stage directions, to make sure no one gets lost. Frank and Eddie! Cameron and Charles on standby!”

“You got it, Sally!” Eddie grinned.

With the clearing of her throat, Sally spoke.

“It was a dark and cool evening at the pier,” she began, “And Charles Cloverton was all alone. Watching the waves crash at his feet, he noticed a shadow moving behind him…”

“Who goes there?” Frank began, straining uncomfortably as he threw on more emotion than he was used to.

“Charles turns around to see our second lead, Cameron, with a lit cigarette in hand.”

“Sorry, there.” Eddie stuttered. “Just wanted to stargaze tonight.”

The three continued to read, with Julie speaking up every so often to deliver the lines of some of the other characters. Once the first few scenes had been read aloud, Sally called for a break! With a pumpkin pie to spare!

The four dispersed, moving to chat among themselves with a warm and hot cocoa. However, Frank just couldn’t shake the thought from his mind that something else was going on, that there was a reason he and Eddie had been so specifically placed together. Against his better judgement, he snuck himself to an isolated corner of the stage, just behind a curtain. With only a small nearby flashlight, he began to skim through the pages of the play.

It was beautifully crafted. A simple, heartfelt story about an emerging city artist and a farmer from the country. But, as he skimmed through scenes, he had begun to notice a pattern. There was something quiet going on between the two protagonists. It was simple gestures at first, like walking Charles home or even lending him an umbrella as it rained, but it soon delved into more passionate, intimate scenes, with the two linking hands and even pressing foreheads together. Imagining himself doing such…romantic actions with Eddie only made him feel panicked and flustered.

It all grew too much for him as he skipped to the end.

There they were at the pier. Stars dancing above them. And in the midst of the night, their feet planted at the wooden platform sat just before the sea, the two shared a kiss. A loving, tender kiss.

Frank couldn’t help but hyperventilate.

He was supposed to kiss Eddie.

Oh, snap. He was going to kiss Eddie.

He and Eddie. Kiss.

Yeah, sure, it wasn’t a real kiss.

But it was a kiss!

Before he could even register it, his vision grew blurry with spinning. His head whirled around so fast, he worried it would fly away. How was he going to explain that? Sally would be furious, knowing he read ahead! That was the one thing she hated people doing!

Well, there were other things she hated people doing, but reading ahead was pretty darn high on her list!

Come on, Frank. You gotta calm down.

Just calm down, buddy!

Calm it!

Nope. He couldn’t relax.

With a pop, his head fell off, rolling away.

Well, the ensuing screams at least helped him know where he had ended up.

This was awkward.

Julie looked at him in surprise, picking him up and rotating his face to look at her.

“Frank!” She chided, “You scared them!”

“I didn’t mean to!” he frowned, furrowing his brow.

“Guys!” She turned away, facing Frank’s head towards a petrified Eddie and a horrified Sally, “He’s okay! He just got a little overwhelmed!”

“Why are you able to do that!” Sally cried.

“Are ya’ hurt at all?” Eddie asked, doing his best to not look away from Frank in fear. “This feels very wrong!”

“Julie, you’re freaking them out,” he sighed. “Just put me back on my body. I want to finish my pie.”

“Okay!” She smiled, turning his head to face her again. “Um…where are you?”

Frank’s eyes pointed towards a corner, where Julie could see a grey hand waving out from behind a curtain. Trotting steps quickly guided him back to, well, the rest of himself, and he let out a breath of relief once his head was reattached.

“What’s gotten you so worked up, anyhow?” She asked, leaning to look at the script in his lap. With a squeak he slammed the binder shut, shaking his head and moving to hold his face.

“Frank?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Rehearsal resumed soon after. The four began the read through of the third scene, the one right before the second act. Frank found that he could barely deliver his lines, his voice instead fading into a squeak at the end of each syllable he forced out. The poor guy was a mess. All he could think about was the ending sequence, with the proposal and the kiss. He wanted to imagine what it would be like at a real pier.

He and Eddie would be holding hands, hushed voices dancing in the night. Nothing but a shifting glow would be illuminating his face, his features gently curled upon and curated by the contour of cerulean boat lights. They would exchange heartfelt words, perhaps of their future hopes and dreams, and they would dance under pale moonlight, with only the song in their hearts to guide them.

Then, Eddie would dip him, holding him in a passionate embrace as he brought his face close…and perhaps, even closer.

“Frank,” he would whisper, that same kind smile on his face. Except, his eyes would be different. They would filled with love, admiration, even, for the person he held in his arms.

And then he would lean in…

And then, he would—

“Fraaank! Franky planky!” Julie smiled, waving her hand in front of his face. As irked as he was that she mistook his name, he was overcome with embarrassment as he realized just what he had been imagining.

“Are you okay?” she asked awkwardly, tapping at his script. “You gotta read your line, friend.”

“My—my line?” He shook his head, looking down into his lap. “Right. My line.”

“Are you alright, Frank?” Eddie asked. “You’re lookin’ awfully red.”

“I—“

He swallowed hard, bringing a hand up to his cheek. Shoot. His face was really hot.

“If you could—excuse me,” he quickly stood, knocking his script over and almost running off stage. The three watched in confusion as he quickly left the auditorium. Not a word was spoken between them until Sally stood, brushing herself off and hopping off stage.

“Where are you goin’?” Eddie asked.

“I’m gonna to talk to him!” She reassured. “A good director always checks up on her actors!”

“I’ll come with you!” Julie insisted. But Sally just shook her head.

“You stay here and keep Eddie some company! I think it’s best if I handle this one.”

The thudding of Sally’s steps echoed through the auditorium, finishing off with the echo of the doors that led to the rest of her house.

And there Frank was, sitting at her dining room table and staring outside at the melting snow. He barely even acknowledged Sally as she approached, moving to take a seat across from him.

“What’s got you so worked up, neighbor?” she asked, tilting her head. “We haven’t even gotten to the best parts yet!”

“That’s the thing!” Frank snapped, visibly panicked. “I know what you’re doing!”

“What? What am I doing?” Sally furrowed her brow, placing her hands in her lap.

“I read ahead, Sally,” He admitted, bowing his head in shame. “I’m sorry, but something seemed suspicious.”

“You did?” Her eyes widened in shock. “Normally, I’d be very upset with you! But…what did you think?”

“I think that…I can’t do this play.”

“whaaat? Why?”

Frank swallowed. in any usual circumstance, he would have just stuck it out and done the play without a fuss. But this wasn’t a normal circumstance, it was a complete set up! This was just a one way ticket to him embarrassing himself!

“Uh…Frank?” she smiled awkwardly, “You okay there, Frankly?”

“I don’t feel comfortable doing something so…romantic, with Eddie,” he shook his head, stumbling over his words in an attempt to clobber together anything sensical.

“…Specifically with Eddie? Why is that?”

“No, not specifically with Eddie, I just mean that…well…”

She wasn’t buying it. Frank knew she wasn’t buying it. And while part of her kind of wanted to see how he would worm his way out of admitting it, she didn’t want to make the poor guy suffer even more than he already was.

“Listen,” He sighed, hanging his head. “You better not tell anyone this, okay?”

“What? What are you trying to tell me?”

It was hard enough to admit to Wally, but he had only done it because he knew that he wouldn’t tell anyone! Imagine Sally knowing, too! That’s, like, three neighbors! And that was too many! But Frank knew what he had to do. He just had to swear her to secrecy, that was all!

“Listen,” he began, clearing his throat. “I’ve been trying to keep this under wraps, but if telling you makes you understand where I’m coming from, then so be it.”

“…Okay.”

Oh, jeez. This was very nerve wracking. Frank fiddled with the edge of his vest as he spoke, almost shrinking into himself.

“I…may or may not—have a sort of, well, small bit of…”

Sally was getting bored.

“I like Eddie! There, I said it!”

“Oh!” Her face lit up. “I know.”

“What? You know?”

“Duh! Why else would I do this?” She grinned. “No offense, but you’re not a very good actor.”

“None taken—wait—Sally, I—“

Frank tripped over his own words, shaking his head before letting out a yell of frustration.

“You’re evil, Sally!”

“Evilly genius!” She insisted. “Come on! We did this to get you two together, you know! This is your chance to finally make a move!”

“You—you’re trying to set us up?”

“Yes!”

“Evil!”

“Okay, okay,” she waved him off. “Mayhaps I was a tad hasty with this. But Frank, let me tell you something!”

“Oh yeah? What?” He crossed his arms and moved to stand, even more embarrassed.

“Eddie’s read through this before!” Sally stood as well, gesturing to the script in her hand. “He knew what was going to happen, and he chose to lead! With you!”

“With…me?”

Frank seemed to relax at those words. While he was still upset that he had been tricked into it, he felt relief that…at least Eddie wasn’t. Eddie had actually wanted to do this. With him.

Gosh, for someone who was supposed to be the smartest neighbor, he sure was thick in the head when it came to love. If he hadn’t felt dumb before, he sure did now.

“So you need to prove it!” Sally took his hands, tightening her grip. “It’s time for you to seize this opportunity!”

Frank thought for a moment. This play was a way for him to get closer to Eddie, all the while exploring a whole other romantic side of things. Sure, maybe it was scripted. But if he knew how passionate Eddie was when it came to theater, then he knew he would put his heart and soul into delivering.

Part of him Was still paralyzed with fear. But another part of him, emboldened with her encouragement, nodded.

This was going to be the play of the century. And he was going to make sure of it.

If not for himself, then for Eddie.

Chapter Text

While he had found script-reading fun and all, what he truly took enjoyment out of was the building.

Eddie had always been crafty with his hands. After all, arts and crafts were his hobby! And how could he have been a proper mail man if he couldn’t even fold his letters correctly?

But as much expertise as he had with paper chains, or even paper cranes, he found himself stumped when it came to painting.

It wasn’t his expertise, that was Wally’s. But still, every single time he had helped out to paint a set, he almost always managed to either knock down a bucket of paint or trip and fall off of the stage. His clumsiness was a curse, and it was a curse that, this time, landed him with Bea by his side.

Bea was a wonderful teacher. Out of all the Joyfuls, she certainly was the most patient. Even when he messed up, she somehow managed to find a teachable moment in all of the ruckus.

“You gotta’ think of holding the paintbrush like a pencil, doll!” She encouraged, sitting by his side as he pressed the brush tip to the stretched canvas of the backdrop. Wally helped guide his hand, offering a patient smile for each successful stroke he managed to land onto the surface.

While those three painted, the other residents of Home found themselves busy on-stage as well. Jonesy and Julie were helping put together the various platforms, while Howdy and Barnaby helped to lift some of the heavier materials up onto workbenches and tables. Chatter filled the hall, resonating off of sound panels and echoing back through the grand house that was just beyond their steps. For such a small town, it was a huge hall, and it was one that Sally dreamed of packing full to the brim one day.

Franny hovered close by, making sure that all was in order for the big day. Occasionally, she would bark an order, exchanging glances with Julie whenever the other deemed her directions a tad too forceful. In reality, Sally kind of liked having the support. Having such a particular woman working by her side flustered her in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

Oh, but now wasn’t the time for that. She needed to focus!

The lights of the stage shone down like a pale moon, gently dancing around shadows and brushing back against the busy neighbors of Home. The light tune of a record player helped keep each company, floating gently around each neighbor while they all talked and worked. Sally found herself inclined to pick up a hammer and help out too, but she felt a tad out of place leaving Franny alone in order to work with Jonesy and Julie.

And obviously she couldn’t help out Howdy and Barnaby. Especially not with the awkwardness of, well, whatever was going on between them.

Oh, if only Poppy were here. She would know what to do.

Speaking of her—hopefully those desserts were coming soon. She was starting to feel awfully hungry.

“Oh, Sally!” Bea called out, waving her over, “Now, why don’t you tell Eddie here what you’re thinking to do for this backdrop?”

“Oh, but of course, Beatrice!”

———

Despite the howling wind, Frank found himself to not be disturbed much at all.

“Remember the oven mitts, dearie,” Poppy reminded, handing him her trusty pair. “I wouldn’t want you to burn yourself, now.”

“Oh, relax, Poppy,” Frank quickly assured, waving her off. “You and I both know that two is plenty to keep me safe. We discussed this!”

“But of course! Perhaps I should stop worrying about you so much. You always know what to do, Frank” 

She backed away from the oven, gingerly watching as Frank pulled down the door and carefully stuck his hands in. With a firm grip, he pulled out one tray after another and set both down on the stovetop. Now, with the danger gone, Poppy found she could finally enjoy the warm, honey smell of fresh-baked pumpkin cookies. Even though the snowy exterior contrasted quite a bit with the autumnal flavors, both felt that it was never too late to enjoy a warm, spiced dessert. And this time, with some ~~hot~~ pleasantly warm chocolate to share!

Poppy approached the stovetop once she was sure the cookies had cooled, looking down at the fresh treats. They were perfectly round, crisp right at the edges, and glazed with a golden crust. Exquisitely delicious, as she knew Sally would say.

“How about we decorate some?” She offered, turning to see Frank already eagerly popping open a tube of frosting. He nodded in agreement, approaching one cookie in particular. Although, it looked a little odd. It was shaped like a rectangle.

“What’s with this one?” Poppy asked, pointing at it. Frank’s face seemed to grow red as he turned away, flustered.

“Well—I thought—erm…” he stuttered, shaking his head.

She tilted her head, a small smile coming to her face as she realized what exactly Frank had been planning. Oh, how it just warmed her by the feathers.

“I’m sure he would like it,” She encouraged kindly, moving to reach into her cabinet for another frosting tube. Frank simply nodded, an embarrassed expression on his face as he gently pressed the tip of the tube to the cookie’s surface.

—

“Are you sure you won’t drop the pitcher this time, Poppy?” Frank teased lightly, carefully placing the newly-frosted cookies onto a decorative platter. Poppy let out a scoff and a chuckle at his question, shaking her head in embarrassment.

“Oh, dearest, you know that was because of Barnaby! Seeing him chase after Eddie in such a way simply startled me!”

“He certainly had me miffed after those terrible puns he tossed at me,” Frank shook his head, finishing up his patterned stacking. “I can’t blame you, Poppy. Barnaby can certainly be overwhelming sometimes.”

The two made their way to the door, Poppy tucking a stack of cups under her wing as she reached out to push the handle. Frank helped support the door, keeping the cookies and napkins close to him as Poppy made her way out.

“I worry about him, Frank,” Poppy mentioned quietly, pushing the door closed with her hip.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“As much as he, well, has made me jump in the years I’ve been in this town, I find myself missing him. He doesn’t come around much anymore.”

“Go on,” Frank insisted, furrowing his brow and stepping off into her walkway.

“Well, Barnaby used to stop by every day for his daily doggie bone,” She began, leading the way to Sally’s house. “But now, I rarely see him. He seems to have a lot on his mind.”

“If I recall correctly, I think something happened between him and Howdy,” Frank thought for a moment, scratching his chin. “Oh, I shouldn’t mention it. It’s honestly none of my business.”

“Hum. Well, I hope things straighten out soon. I find neighborhood drama to be horribly awkward.”

“You and I both.”

Wow. Neighborhood drama. Were he and Eddie neighborhood drama now? It certainly felt like it. If Sally, Howdy and Barnaby were all trying to get them together, then it just had to be. Not to mention Julie mailing him blank letters just to get Eddie to come around.

Well, after what had happened, with the ~~break-in~~ check-in, he felt that it wasn’t quite necessary anymore. On days he had no mail to deliver, he found that Eddie would still figure out a way to stop by, even if it was only for a few minutes.

And one of those times, they even exchanged letters at the door-stop. Bright and early, just before he left to go on his walk. That morning, when Eddie had come around with his blue, shimmering envelope, had left him dizzy and laying on the library’s carpet for what felt like hours. It was such a thrilling rush to swap face-to-face. But he wasn’t quite sure if he was ready for it.

Oh, Frank! Stop thinking about Eddie! Focus on not dropping the cookies!

Poppy led the way as the two continued on in the cold, fall snow, careful to not bump the pitcher of hot—er—pleasantly warm chocolate anywhere. Frank held the door carefully for her, guiding the big red bird inside.

—

“So you’re sayin,” Eddie began, scratching his head, “You want a prickled portrait of a pier past parting, empty, open, and…ah, shucks, Sally. Ya’ lost me again.”

“Edward,” She sighed dramatically, shaking her head, “It isn’t hard! I want a prickled portrait of a pier—“

“—Past parting, empty open and avidly enthralling,” Bea interrupted politely. “Don’t worry, Sally. I’ll make sure he gets it this time!”

With a nod, Sally stepped away, moving back with Franny at the stairs. Gosh, those were a lotta’ P-words. And E words. And A words. Miss Sally Starlet sure did know a lot of fancy words.

“Sorry about that, Eddie,” Bea smiled, patting his shoulder. “I know how she can get sometimes. She and Franny are awfully similar sometimes!”

“I can tell!”

Despite all the focus painting needed, Eddie found himself making careless mistakes—even with the help of Wally! Perhaps he was too busy thinking of something. Or, well, someone.

Yes, he knew that Frank and Poppy had planned to bake today! And yes, he was worried about it! What if the gas stove exploded the barn? What if Frank somehow burnt himself on the stovetop? Oh, he would be in shambles. And Poppy would certainly be freaking out too!

It wasn’t a strange thing to worry about at all. Everyone worries about their neighbors from time-to-time. But at the same time, he did feel slightly silly for thinking up such terrible stories. Perhaps he was just worrying too much! Or, at least he hoped he was.

But soon, his fears were relieved! As Bea shook him out of his thoughts, he realized that there was something awfully delicious wafting by. Perhaps a batch of…

“Mister Dear?”

And there he was. Frank, standing in front of him with a cup and cookie outstretched. It was held carefully in a napkin, with a warm serving of hot chocolate to accompany.

“Well, gee, thank you Mister Frankly,” he chuckled softly, taking the treats from his hands with a smile. He found himself pleasantly surprised when he looked down at the cookie, though, as it had been decorated as a shimmery blue-and-red envelope! How pretty!

“Consider it a small thank-you for…checking in on me, the other day,” Frank said bashfully, moving to rub his neck and press a hand to his face. “It’s the least a neighbor could do, you know.”

“A thank-you, huh?” He tilted his head. “Oh, Frank, you ain’t gotta repay me for that! I was just doin’ my job!”

“Well—“

Their sentiments were interrupted by Sally, shouting into her megaphone (wonderfully provided by Franny). Looks like it was break time!

“Eddie,” Bea called, waving at him off-stage, “Won’t you come take a break? You’ve done an awful lot of painting today.”

Eddie glanced at the envelope cookie and back at his work. As much as he would have loved to spend time with the others, he felt downright awful if they ended up having to pick up his slack. If he wanted to catch up to everyone else, it was only right to work through his break! It was only the right thing to do.

Frank noticed this. Studying his conflicted expression, he picked up Eddie’s retired paintbrush and palette.

“I can continue the set for you, Mister Dear,” he offered, gently guiding a brush-stroke across the sky of the pier. “You should relax. You work too hard.”

“I—“

He was just being nice, Eddie. Nothing more. Don’t read into it too much.
“I couldn’t let you do that, Frank,” he sighed, sheepishly lowering his hat. “I’ll have plenty of time to socialize after the session.”

But instead, Frank just waved him off, continuing to paint.

“Well, at least let me keep ya’ company!” He frowned. “I’d hate to leave you all alone in the auditorium. Everyone’s already left!”

“Suit yourself.”

Eddie moved to sit with a relenting sigh. He watched Frank with careful eyes, marveling at the ease of his hand on such a grand canvas. Blends of lilac, cerulean and claret trailed themselves upon the canvas, adorned each with gold shimmers and silver speckles. The stars glimmered with a gentle passion, soft on the eyes yet oh-so-crisp on the background. It was a breathtaking sight, and one that Eddie felt proud of partaking in. If he hadn’t thought Frank talented before, he sure did so now.
With a sip of the chocolate and a bite of the cookie, Eddie picked up Bea’s paintbrush, closely following each patterned swirl Frank pressed onto the fabric. It was difficult, but soon he felt he got the hang of it.

The sky was finished now, and it was an intricate beauty of constellations, quadrants, and colors all alike.

“What did Sally say this scene was supposed to look like?” Frank asked, turning to Eddie.

“It was a…uh…” Eddie furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment. “Prickly portrait of a pier…somethin’ or other about partitions and excitement?”

But the more he thought, the more it stumped him. “Shucks, Frank. I can’t remember now.”
“You really should get a notebook or something,” Frank chided, shaking his head. “If you can’t remember one of Sally’s iconic tongue-twisters, then how are you going to remember where your mailbox is?”

A notebook! That was a wonderful idea!

“You sure know how to help a fella’ out, Frank,” Eddie smiled sheepishly. “A notebook, what a thought. I oughta’ write that one down for later!”
“No worries, I’ll remember it for you. I think it’s best we keep on painting.”

Right! The painting. As Eddie gazed upon their creation, his eyes trailed to multiple different, nearby spots. Perhaps a little more glitter on the lighthouse was enough to do it! Or, maybe, a few more touch-ups on the rusty nails! Just nothing new. He was too afraid of screwing up to paint a new section.

“Why don’t we add some more highlights on the fence?” Frank suggested, moving to rinse off their paint brushes.

Oh no! This was exactly what he didn’t want!
“I…reckon we should get started, then,” he agreed nervously, taking back his freshly washed square-top.

Frank nodded, moving to sit. Quickly, he mixed together the colors on the palette, sticking it onto his thumb and holding it with his knuckles. As the metal spatula scraped against the wood, Eddie watched with wide, admiring eyes. Sure, it was just a small action, but he found it just entrancing how smooth and coordinated Frank was. Perhaps he could learn a thing or two.

As the two began to lay their brush strokes, Frank immediately noticed an issue. Eddie’s hand was shaky, nervous from the tension that painting brought upon them. As he dragged the bristles across the surface, his lines flowed out shaky and inconsistent, with gaps and stretches smoothing onto the dried base. Frank always thought that the others exaggerated their claims of Eddie’s shaky painting-hand, but, as rude as it was, they weren't wrong.

“You’ve gotta apply light, even pressure, Eddie,” Frank began, shifting to sit behind Eddie. With a calm hand, he gently snaked it to Eddie’s wrist, lifting his heavy hand off of the canvas and guiding his brush to another fenced portion.

Alright, Eddie. Don’t overthink it. He’s just being a good neighbor! Frank is just helping out.

“Like…this?” Eddie asked, nervously turning to see Frank right at his shoulder. They were so close, and he knew Frank could see just how red his face was. He probably looked really dumb to him, since Frank pulled away and moved to cover his own face in embarrassment.

“Did I…do somethin’ wrong, Frank?”

“No, no, it’s just—“

He quickly cut himself off before he could speak again, simply shaking his head and moving back behind Eddie. With a deep breath, Eddie began to paint again, Frank’s hand again gently moving itself down his arm to help control his movements.

It wasn’t long before the two of them slowed into a groove, gently flecking highlights and wood chips onto the scenery. It was a little messy, but neither found themselves to be too bothered by that. The time spent in his arms—the time spent holding him so carefully, was enough to make all those little imperfections feel perfect.

When Frank was there with him, the world seemed to shift ever so softly. A sort of choreography, he found their brush following. Above, swirling upon ink and oil, surrounded by the sweetest of sage it festered, enveloping each of them into a freeing trace that melted any worry away.

Once the fences were done, Frank gently rested his head against Eddie’s, wrapping his arms around his neck and tentatively letting himself relax.

“You’re a good painter, Mister Dear.”

“You’re…not too bad yourself...!” Eddie croaked out, trying his best to remain calm. Frank felt so warm, next to him, and he found himself almost lightheaded from how fast his pulse had gotten.

He’s just being friendly, Eddie. He’s just being friendly.

Frank let out a soft chuckle, turning his head away as he realized just how flustered Eddie was. Gently, he pressed a hand to Eddie’s cheek. His hands were cold, but still soft with gently-sewn felt. The feeling came as a sort of shock to his body at that moment, and he couldn’t help but tense up more.

Okay, Eddie. You may be as oblivious as a brick, but you can definitely tell that this is not just being nice anymore.

With a shaking hand, Eddie brought his own up, gently cupping it and pushing his fingers in-between Frank’s own. Intertwined at the knuckles, the two continued on in idle chatter.

But at some point, even that faded, bringing upon comfortable silence that seemed to melt into the both of them.

And even as the rest of the crew left, even as the theater lights dimmed, there was nothing more that Eddie wanted than to remain there with Frank.

Chapter Text

5th of Winter, year 1972.

Hi there! Eddie Dear here,

Thought I’d try out this journaling thing! Suppose it’d help a fella’ like me out to write myself one of these. You know, I don’t know how I never thought of this for myself. It was actually Frank who suggested it. Maybe I’ll finally be able to remember stuff around here!

Hum. Where to start.

Oh, right! So, production on the play is goin’ well, we finally got a new shipment on the wood we were needin’. Sally’s been workin’ her tail off to make sure everything’s all set up for the big debut in the springtime. It’s an honor for a fella’ like me to be workin’ with such a star like her.

Speakin’ of that! We’ve been rehearsing the first few scenes! I think I’m finally rememberin’ my lines from the bakery. Gosh, those were hard ones. But, Frank’s been stoppin’ by to help me rehearse when I’m behind the desk! I’m usually back here more during the winter. It gets lonely, but not so much when he’s around. Honestly, sometimes I find myself makin’ excuses just to get him to visit. Heck, when that beetle came by the post office the other day, I was almost grateful! Well, obviously I was grateful, since Frank helped me get rid of ‘em, but…he was kind enough to even stay over and help me and Wally fix up the paper chains. It was really nice. I enjoy spendin’ time with him. Hope he does, too. Then again, he was writin’ me those very lovely letters.

Ah! Speakin’ of the letters! We still been sending ‘em. Dropped one off at his house just before stoppin’ here. First time I did that, I think I startled the poor guy a bit! He spilled his tea. Luckily, I helped him clean up, and he invited me in to watch a movie! Now, I’m not much for movies, but if it was with Frank? Then count me in. Think I stared more at him than I did at his television, there. Hope he didn’t notice. Well, actually, I hope he did.

Gosh, I feel all silly about them notes. Got one written out actually, on the page before this one! Tried usin’ more flowery language this time. Y’know, just to spice things up!

Neither of us have really mentioned it to each other just yet. I wanna’ give him the chance to feel things out for himself, instead of me pressurin’ him to be makin’ decisions so soon. He just needs a little bit of time to come out of his shell, that’s all! Though, I do wonder when he’s gonna’ say somethin’ about it. I can tell he wants to. But—

—

As the bell of the post office rang, Eddie’s head perked up from his notebook. Julie was making her way in, all bundled up in her lovely pink parka. Under her arm was a bundle of envelopes, each individually stamped with each of the neighbors’ favorite things.

“Well, whether letter or parcel, whether rain, snow, or shine, we weather the weather and never decline!” Eddie waved, delightfully reciting his welcome. “Heya’ there, Julie! Got somethin’ for me?”

“Indeed I do, Eddie,” She smiled, neatly placing her stack of letters atop Eddie’s desk. From the candy-cane borders, to the red and green lights, this could only mean one thing.

“Wow! Is it time for Secret Santa already?” He asked, taking the letters and flipping through them. “My, I’ve been waitin’ all year for this!”

Julie nodded quickly, excited and almost bouncing off her feet. It was clear just how much love and care was put into this Winter’s celebration. Eddie could only appreciate her dedication to bringing the neighborhood together.

“When should I mail these out by?” He asked, moving to organize them into piles.

“By tomorrow morning, if you could!” Julie clasped her hands together. “Oh! And don’t forget to add the glitter!”

“Let me write that down!” Eddie chirped, moving to write ‘glitter’ in the corner of his page. With a quick goodbye from Julie, he was alone once more in his post office. A nice time to continue journaling.

—

—Ah, where was I? Sorry, Julie just stopped by! It’s gettin’ time for all the Christmas cheer, ain’t it? Seems like she’s gettin’ in the spirit already.

Honestly, I’m a bit nervous for this year’s Secret Santa. I’m kinda’ hopin’ I get Frank, although I know it might be a little annoyin’ how much I’ve talked about him already. I actually saw a record at Howdy’s the other night, and it reminded me of him! He was talkin’ about the singer after the movie we watched. Clarence…somethin’ or other. Said it was somethin’ his nana showed him as a kid. Glad he could bond with someone over that typa’ stuff. Maybe I could gift it to him! And, if he isn’t my person, then I think I’ll still give it to him anyway. I’d like to, at least!

Gah, I got off track! I’m supposed to be writin’ about the play, here!

Things have been goin’ great! Although, I can tell Frank’s a little nervous. His head was spinnin’ when we were all goin’ through the kiss scene! Speakin’ of his head, I…did not know that it detached like that. Boy, that gave me a scare. Maybe a little warnin’ next time woulda’ helped a fella’ out! But, hey, I guess that’s normal for him? I mean—when he gets hot under the collar, of course. You know, that hasn’t been happenin’ all too often since we started spending more time together. I like to think I’m helpin’ him out a bit.

Well, he certainly helps me out a lot. I feel bad about it, though. It doesn’t feel all too pleasant to always be the guy holdin’ everyone back. I’m always forgettin’ lines. Maybe writin’ em down will help.

Everyone’s very nice to me about it, though! Even Sally! Boy, she’s bein’ a lot more patient as of recent. Maybe havin’ Poppy around has helped her cool a bit.

…Ya’ know, sometimes I think Sally’s puttin’ a bit too much faith in me. I mean, one thing I’m known ‘round here for is my poor memory, right? I’m startin’ to think that she made me Carmen—er—Cameron, for a reason. Is it because of my accent? Could that be it? Well, it doesn’t matter much. I’m just glad I can spend time with Frank and the others.

Ah, but I’ve been ramblin’ all too long, haven’t I? Not like there’s much else to do at the post office at this hour. But maybe I’ll stop by Poppy’s tonight. She is havin’ everyone over for a pumpkin pie. And I’m kinda’ lookin’ forward to it!

Well, I’ll catch ya’ later, notebook!

• Eddie Dear. Postman. Home’s Postman, obviously.