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Ed had been on this earth for a while now, and he’s gotten good at hiding things.
Well. He thought he was good at it. But along came Stede, and suddenly, it was if his every thought was as transparent as glass. Stede has always been able to see right through him, whether he liked it or not.
And when Ed felt like this, the last thing he wanted was for Stede to see through him. This wasn’t Stede’s problem, this was his. His fucked-up brain, his problem. That was fine. He could handle it.
Seventeen times, the voice in his head insisted, and Ed’s fingers twitched. Ten like a knot, seven for luck.
He pushed voice aside and kept trying to read his book. It was an interesting book, dammit. Stede had read it back-to-back twice. Where was he, something about a garden—
Maybe multiply it by five, just to be safe. Mom liked fives. She knocked five times the night you—
Ed grunted and slammed the book shut, and very pointedly did not walk to the door to knock on it. If he did, he knew he would get no relief from the devil in his mind. Still, his skin itched to walk over. Everything felt wrong, and that diabolical voice whispered that he could make it right. All he had to do was knock out the pattern, again and again, and once more just in case—
He didn’t get up. He was a smart man, god damn it. He had strategized and led attacks that still haunted sailors to this day. Well, he figured they did, anyway. The only sailors he saw these days were the residents at the inn, and not one of them had guessed that they were under the hospitality of the great Blackbeard.
His shoulders started to drop at the random thought, and he happily followed it for as long as he could, because at least it wasn’t those thoughts. They couldn’t exactly advertise who ran the place and he knew they had to remain anonymous for their own safety, but maybe they could start some rumors about “Blackbeard” staying at the inn to drum up some business. Stede loved to gather and spread gossip in town—
Knock on the door, and Stede will be safe.
Ed put his head in his hands, letting the book fall from his lap onto the floor.
Knock on the door, or Stede will die.
“Bullshit,” Ed muttered through his palms, but his breathing was getting rapid again, and tears of pure frustration began to prick at his eyes, because he knew it wasn’t real, he knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him. But still, the urge to give in to the silent command made his palms sweat and his skin itch with anticipation to repeat the motions he’d done so many times before. Pathetic.
Knock ten times, then seven, or Stede will die when you are sleeping, Stede will die swept away with a riptide, Stede will die—
“Why won’t it stop?”
“Ed?”
He curled up in his seat immediately and buried his head into his knees, mortification sweeping over him at once. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that so loudly. He hadn’t meant to say that at all. Now Stede would think he was stupid, or insane – the bad kind of insane, not the insane that they were and loved to be, but the kind that got folks like his mother locked away at the edge of the world – and Stede would leave, and you won’t be able to protect him, you’re putting him in danger now, go knock on the fucking door you piece of shit—
“Hey, hey,” Stede's voice gently washed over him, and he felt a broad, warm hand land on his leg. “E ipo, just breathe. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”
No it fucking isn’t, Ed wanted to snap, but he bit his lip instead of lashing out. Stede wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t understand.
“I’m right here, okay? We’re both safe.”
His own body and mind urged him to believe otherwise, but Stede’s voice broke through his fortress of inane worry. The voice might compel him to do what it wanted, but Stede sounded more real, more sure. He let it lure him out of his shell, and he peeked over his knees to see Stede looking back at him, worry etched on his face.
“Don’t go,” Ed croaked, completely stumped on why those were the first words to come out of his mouth, but Stede put his hand on top of his in an instant, and Ed’s chest felt warm.
“Never, taku whaiāipo,” Stede said earnestly, but Ed felt the corner of his mouth turn upwards at the way Stede didn’t quite land the term of endearment he’d taught him. It was imperfect, but it made this moment feel rooted in reality. Not whatever fucked-up world those stupid thoughts came from.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Stede offered, ever open-hearted and patient, but Ed’s pulse quickened a tad at the thought of having to explain anything in this state, so he shook his head.
“Can we just…” Ed bit his lip, looking at Stede’s beautiful open eyes. “Just stay in bed a bit? I know we’ve got rounds—”
“Never mind that,” Stede interjected, tugging Edward to his feet and leading him to their bed. Ed couldn’t help but glance at the door and notice it was open just a tad too far, and he had to fix it, because if he didn’t Stede would—
Fuck that, Ed thought resolutely, I’m fucking Blackbeard, and I’m not scared of a fucking door. I put it in myself. It’s my fucking door.
More than that: it was theirs. At the reminder that it wasn’t just him, it was him and Stede, Ed felt the knots in his chest unwind. Then, he flipped the door off for good measure. Stede tracked the action, glancing between Ed and the door, but thankfully didn’t say anything about it. Ed would explain later. Probably.
Instead, Ed lay down on Stede’s chest. His heartbeat couldn’t quite drown out the other voice, the voice screaming at him to make it right, but Ed closed his eyes and stayed right where he was. Because, even if his brain was taunting the shit out of him, Stede was still right here. And there was nowhere else Ed would rather be.