Chapter Text
Look. Let’s get this out of the way first. There’s a few things you have to know about Ed to truly understand what’s going on here. Number one is this: Ed has no problem with littles. He’s best friends with James, after all! Not to mention all his other good mates classified as such. Iain, Munya, Fern, Lou, just to name a few. Oh, and of course, Little Alex Horne. Or should it be Little Little Alex Horne…?
The point is, he’s not a prick. He’s not like some of the outdated groups you see on the news campaigning for “Neutral Rights” or the trolls who hide behind their computer screens and spread vile hate and misinformation. No. He loves his friends being able to be who they are without a worry in the world, with people who’ll care for them and always be there. He loves that for them. But personally, he’s glad he isn’t one. He’s fine where he is – Neutral, plain and simple, the poster boy for your classic white man, the default character on a video game. Unremarkable and unobtrusive, just how he likes it, because despite common misconceptions, Ed doesn’t like being the centre of attention.
The second thing you need to know is this: Ed’s never needed anyone. His father ups and leaves when he’s four leaving behind nothing but echoes of screaming arguments, old DVDs, two tabby cats, and a confused little boy. To be fair, he doesn’t cut contact completely. He pays for Ed to go to that big old posh boys school and Ed still gets to see him every now and then; gets to see his little brother and sister come into the world. But he’s never really there for him, not like he is his new family. He’s simply a man in his life who for some reason Ed tries his best to please and make proud, even though after thirty-five years he should really know better. He’s a good well of comedy material, though, he’s gotta hand him that. Yeah, that’s his dad – a loud, stubborn, opinionated man he can do impressions of to get a laugh.
His mum is none of these things. His mum is the definition of lovely. So lovely, in fact, that her work can’t get enough of her. She can never say no to the overtime, not when she loves her job so much, not when her patients need her. And Ed never resents her for it. He’s proud. That’s his mum showing the world that she don’t need no damn man to complete her heart or provide for her son. It just means… Ed’s on his own – a lot. And most of the time it’s fine but maybe there are a few times when… things are a bit tough. Late shifts could be hard, being on his own in their house as the world grows dark outside. He thinks that’s part of the reason he starts going out drinking when he’s barely into secondary school. He doesn’t care about getting pissed – to be honest, he finds the taste of the cheap lager revolting – he just can’t stand the silence.
But it doesn’t matter now, those days are in the past. He got through them. And he got through them on his own. And by the time he’s fourteen he’s already fiercely independent. Probably been through some shit others twice his age haven’t and come out grinning on the other side. Struggles at school, both academically and due to the bullies. Boring. Everyone goes through that at some point. Being mugged on Wimbledon common more times than he can remember? Eh, it’s part and parcel of living in London. Chronic condition for the rest of his life? Who cares. Throw those devil horns in the air. Rock on, baybeh! Yeah. Ed is pretty hardcore like that.
Another thing is this: Ed enjoys being relied upon. He always has. He supposes that plays into his independent side. He’s that friend. The organised one, the one who deals with admin, who’ll do his best to make sure everyone’s happy, having a good time. The mediator if any arguments break out. The shoulder to cry on, the one who’ll go in for a hug first. He enjoys it, and more importantly, he’s good at it. So good, that more than once he’s been mistaken for a Caregiver, especially when it’s him and James hanging out. When that happens he gets this warm tingle of pride in his chest – someone acknowledging that he’s doing a good job; he likes the praise.
The best reward is seeing James happy, though. Hearing his laugh, the way he’ll scrunch his eyes up as his giggles devolve into high-pitched squeaks. James is his best friend, first and foremost, his partner in crime along with Nish, but Ed has to admit that there’s always been a protectiveness he feels there, a sense that he has to look after the other man, whether he’s little or not. Again, he’s a bit like that with everyone, that’s just his personality type. Even back when he’d been touring with Greg – who’d been so obviously a caregiver he might as well have had it tattooed on his forehead – he’d always felt like he had to watch out for the other man. But James is different… special. And after being present to what he went through a few years back and seeing how he is now, happier and calmer and thriving, he’ll do everything in his power to make sure it stays that way. So, even if he’s not a caregiver, if James ever needs him like that, he doesn’t hesitate to fulfil that role, or at least try his very best until Greg can. He always tries his best.
The final thing… is this: Ed is a sublime liar.
Exceptional. One of the best, and that’s not bragging, that’s straight facts. Be it lying to his mum about not remembering the night his dad left, or lying about having packed lunches at school in order to sneak into the canteen, or lying about his age to get into a metal gig he is three years too shy of legal for, or lying to everyone when the test results came back, or lying about where those bruises came from, how he sprained his wrist, who gave him that split lip, oh, he was in the headmasters office for over an hour was he, time flies when you’re stuck in detention, or lying to his friends that no, he is absolutely fine, don’t look at him like that, there’s nothing wrong, he is in control of his diabetes one hundo percent, he’s not gonna wake up in the middle of tonight shaking and panicking and feeling like someone’s put a boot to his brain, or lying to everyone that he wasn’t absolutely terrified that night James phoned him, voice so tiny and shaky and young and so, so desolate that Ed was worried he might get there too late, no, he doesn’t still have nightmares – he’s gotten good at it, over the years – lying. So good, in fact, that for some things, he doesn’t even have to think about it any more. He’s told them so much he’s started believing them himself. The lies have become fact.
Ed has no problem with littles.
Ed has never needed anyone.
He doesn’t.
Ed enjoys being relied upon.
He does.
He is all of these things. This is who he is, who he’s always been.
So why can’t everyone else see that?
Oh yeah, so there’s probably one more thing you need to know to truly understand what’s going on here. It doesn’t quite start but it most certainly ends with a stupid duck task of all the fucking things, and a blood glucose level that won’t play ball, and a delight that swiftly turns into despair, and people are laughing at him, and he’s trying his best but nothing is working, and he doesn’t know what to do, and his chest is tight, and his clothes feel too loose, and people are going to see this, and see what a failure he is, and everyone who ever doubted him will be proved right, and he really is pathetic, he really is shamefully weak, and he wants to go home, but there’s no one, no one who he can go to because there’s never been anyone, not for this, and then there’s an immense, crushing pressure in his head unlike any he’s ever felt before, and the world is spinning, growing bigger around him, and he’s shrinking, shrinking down into the depths cause –
Well, shit. Now everyone here knows Ed Gamble’s a little.