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“How long will you be gone?” Izzy asks. Ed told him already, but he needs to hear it again.
Ed doesn’t even give him the courtesy of looking at him, the asshole. He shoves clothes seemingly at random into a duffel bag with his back to Izzy.
“Three days,” Ed says cheerily.
“And, you have to go?”
“It’s Jack’s birthday, mate.” Like that will somehow matter to Izzy. “You know you can come too.”
“I’d rather drink acid.”
“Yeah, Stede said about the same.”
“You can’t expect me to spend three days alone with fucking Bonnet,” Izzy hisses. His voice turns shrill at the end, but he can’t bring himself to care.
Ed laughs like he’s making a joke. He isn’t. “You’ll survive.”
“I will not.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Izzy.”
The thing is, Stede shouldn’t even be here. This was Ed and Izzy’s apartment, just like it had always been since they were eighteen. This place was a little nicer than the last few, had two bedrooms and a heater that actually worked, but it was still just a stopping off point for the two of them. A place to sleep after too many hours working.
That is, until six months ago when Ed met Stede. It felt like one day it was the two of them, just like always, and the next Bonnet was swanning into Izzy’s life.
Izzy isn’t even sure when Stede moved in. He started spending the night more and more. Leaving decorative pillows and shit around the living room. Filling the fridge with ridiculous things like oat milk and tofu and expensive eye creams that apparently have to be refrigerated. Absurd.
Izzy doesn’t care if Stede pays rent. He wasn’t consulted on this. He doesn’t want him around. He doesn’t want to be subjected to the cloying floral scent of Stede’s essential oil diffuser or there never being hot water for the shower or coming home to Stede and Ed practically fornicating on his couch. It isn’t fair, but Izzy knows it doesn’t matter. When Ed wants something, he gets it, and he’ll act like Izzy is the crazy one for even questioning it.
But, this is too far.
“What am I supposed to do for three days?” Izzy demands.
Ed has the gall to laugh. “What you always do? Ignore him. Just don’t fuck with his eye cream, mate. I thought he was going to lose it.”
Izzy doesn’t understand why Stede even lives in this dump with them. He clearly comes from money. It’s obvious in the way he talks, in the flouncy, expensive shit he wears. He must think this is a lark, slumming it, pretending to be poor.
“I might murder him,” Izzy says, and he’s only sort of kidding.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Ed says.
“Then, don’t leave.”
But he did.
*
“Israel.” Stede’s voice, way too cheerful for such an ungodly hour, is the first thing he wakes up to. He presses his palms to his closed eyes and groans.
“I told you not to fucking call me that.”
Stede is a dick, no matter what Ed says. It’s in moments like this, Stede using his full name even though he hates it, that makes it obvious.
“Are you getting up anytime soon, Izzy? I thought we could have breakfast together.”
“Fuck no.”
He can practically hear the pout in Stede’s voice. “There’s no need to be rude.”
Izzy wants to spit out something snide. Just because Ed isn’t there doesn’t mean they suddenly have to spend time together. But, Stede is always doing this, trying to pull Izzy into things. This isn’t the first time Izzy’s woken up to his annoying voice through the door. Izzy, do you want any coffee? Izzy, let’s watch a movie together. Izzy, have you seen my eye cream? It was in the fridge last night and now it’s gone.
Izzy waits for Stede to continue to prod at him, but he doesn’t. He goes all quiet, and a moment later Izzy hears his footsteps moving away.
Guilt twists in his stomach. Not that he has anything to feel guilty over. He doesn’t. It’s just that Stede is like a very annoying puppy sometimes, always wanting attention, acting like he’s been kicked over something as small as a raised voice.
He heaves himself out of bed, even though he didn’t get in until nearly two last night and was planning to sleep well into the afternoon. He pulls on a shirt and pair of joggers, crumpled on the floor but probably clean, and makes his way into the kitchen. He can smell something good, sweet and warm.
Stede is hunched over a plate of French toast staring glumly at his phone. He looks up when he hears Izzy and visibly brightens.
“You came!” he says.
“It’s my fucking kitchen,” Izzy grumbles. “Did you make French toast?”
“Ed says it’s your favorite.”
Why would Izzy’s favorite breakfast even be something that came up between them? Izzy scowls so he doesn’t blush.
“I don’t hate it,” he admits.
Stede jumps to his feet. “I’ll get you a plate. Please, sit down.”
Izzy watches Stede, in his matching pajama set and silky robe, and wonders again at how this is the man that Ed fell for. This is what Ed wanted. Not Izzy, worn down and irritable. He wanted someone brighter, someone softer, someone completely different than Izzy. Maybe that was why he hated Stede so much.
Stede is oblivious to the maudlin turn of Izzy’s thoughts.
“Do you have to work tonight?” Stede asks. “I thought we could spend some time together if you don’t have any other plans.”
Izzy didn’t have to work, which is frankly shocking. For the first time since he started at Jackie’s bar, there’s enough staff that he doesn’t have to work six days a week. He doesn’t say that. “Why do you want to spend time together?”
“I feel like we barely do! You’re always so busy!”
That didn’t answer his question. “Some of us have to work for a living.”
“I’m going to school,” Stede says with a sniff.
“So am I.”
“I know you think I’m privileged, Israel—“
“It’s Izzy. And, you are.”
Stede acts as if he didn’t say anything. “—but, you’re not the only one with struggles.”
“Sure, Bonnet.” He snorts. “As if anything has been a struggle for you.”
For a moment Stede looks like he’s actually going to say something. His expression is twisted, almost pained, like when he’s trying to pretend to like one of Ed’s insane culinary experiments. Then, it passes, and he’s smiling pleasantly again.
It just irritates Izzy further. He wants to snarl at Stede like an animal, wants to mess up his ridiculous pajamas and even more ridiculous hair, wants to see that mean expression he sometimes gets when Izzy manages to make him angry. Maybe he should throw out all his skincare products this time. Stede’s face had gotten so red he looked like he was about to burst when he did before.
The coffee maker beeps behind them.
“Oh, good, it’s ready!” Stede rushes over to it with way too much urgency. “Would you like some, Israel?”
“Izzy,” he corrects, on autopilot.
Stede ignores him. “You like three sugars and no cream, right?”
“Why do you fucking know that?”
Stede, of course, doesn’t answer.
When Stede hands him his coffee it’s in his favorite mug, chipped and lopsided, made by Ed during the six month stint he thought he was a ceramics guy. It’s made to perfection, just like the French toast.
It’s a little infuriating.
“Do you have any plans this weekend?” Stede asks again. “I have to finish a paper, but I’m almost done—“
“Working,” Izzy cuts him off.
“Not tonight, though.”
“I have plans.”
“Such as?”
Izzy draws a blank. His only plans outside of work were usually hanging out with Ed or hanging out at home. Both options are a lot more difficult now that Ed is always hanging out with Stede and they are usually doing so in his home.
“I’m going out,” he says.
Stede huffs, lower lip pouting like a fucking child. “With who?”
“Not your business,” Izzy snipes. “I’m sure you can think of something better to do than spend the next three days harassing me.”
He waits for Stede to snap back. Stede doesn’t. His pout turns into something sadder and more sincere. Izzy stares down at the chipped rim of his coffee mug so he doesn’t have to look at it.
*
Izzy does not actually have plans.
He sits in a cafe and does his budget for the month, drinks coffee that tastes nothing like the fancy shit Stede made, then wanders around town, at a loss for what to do.
He gets exactly one text from Ed— ‘you two having fun?’— along with a nonsensical stream of emojis. He gets nothing from Stede.
Guilt gnaws at him.
Stede has friends. Izzy knows he does. There are people from school he texts and calls constantly. He’s even friends with his ex-girlfriend, which Izzy finds bizarre. They come over sometimes, much to Izzy’s annoyance, eating his food and laughing too loud when he’s trying to sleep. There are plenty of people for him to spend time with while his boyfriend’s away.
He can’t get the image out of his head, Stede looking sad and bereft.
It’s barely dusk by the time Izzy is stalking back home.
What are they even going to do? They don’t spend time together, not without Ed there to act as a buffer. When they do things devolve into arguments and pointed jabs. They don’t have anything in common, except that they both care about the same person. The only difference is that Stede gets to have Ed. Izzy is left on the outside, like always.
He slams the door on his way in. The first thing he notices is that it’s dark. The sun has just started to go down, but the apartment doesn’t let a lot of natural light in. It looks later than it is.
Izzy thinks for a moment that Stede went out, until he sees the dim glow of the television coming from the living room. He heads towards it.
Stede is sitting on the couch, some romantic comedy that Izzy doesn’t know the name of playing on the television. His hair is still rumpled like it was that morning, no product to be found. Izzy is startled to see that his eyes are red and puffy like he’s been crying. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Stede cry. It’s unsettling, wrong.
Stede hurriedly wipes at his eyes, but it just makes them look more irritated. “Izzy! I thought you were going to be out late.”
“What’s happened?” Izzy asks sharply. “Did someone die?”
Stede blinks owlishly at him. “What? No, of course not.”
“Is it Ed? Did you get in a fight?”
“No.” Stede just looks more confused.
Izzy looks at the screen. It doesn’t look like the sort of movie someone would cry over. “What’s going on, then?”
“Why do you care?” Stede asks. There’s a hint of a scowl, the one only ever directed at Izzy. He likes it better than the tears.
He doesn’t care. He wants to say so, but instead he says, “I do care.”
When Stede doesn’t say anything, he takes a chance and sits on the couch. It’s not that close. He’s on the other end from Stede, far enough away that there’s no chance of them touching, but it’s still closer than they normally are. Izzy could move just a little bit and be able to feel the heat of him.
“What’s wrong?” Izzy asks.
“Well—“ Stede bites his lip. It’s already red and swollen like his eyes, looks like it would be soft to the touch. “It’s very silly. It’s my birthday.”
It takes a moment for what he said to register. “Today?”
“Yes.”
“Why is Ed out with fucking Jack on your birthday?” Izzy snaps. “That’s just like him. Can barely remember what day it is. You can’t just let him fuck around like that. You have to tell him when he’s being an ass. Unbelievable.”
He’s already pulling his phone from his pocket, ready to call Ed and ruin his ridiculous boys’ weekend. Ed is a forgetful, self-centered shit, but Izzy actually can’t believe he would forget Stede’s birthday. Ed is obsessed with him.
“Wait, don’t!” Stede grabs his phone before he can dial. “He doesn’t know.”
“What do you mean, he doesn’t know?”
“I didn’t tell him. It hasn’t really come up yet, and honestly I don’t really like my birthday. It just reminds me of my father, who I’d honestly rather forget about.” Stede is babbling, but Izzy doesn’t stop him. “He kicked me out just after my birthday. Did Ed tell you that? He doesn’t know when it was, but he knows it happened. My father found out I broke up with Mary, and why, and he just lost it. I haven’t spoken to him since. That was a few years ago. I was going to tell Ed, but then he said he was going on this birthday trip with Jack. I didn’t want to ruin his fun. If he stayed here it would just be me being sad. So, I didn’t.”
Izzy doesn’t know what to say. He lands on, “It isn’t even Jack’s birthday.”
“What?”
“Jack’s birthday was last month. Ed could have made him reschedule.”
“Oh.”
“You’re a fucking idiot, Bonnet.” Izzy says some variation of it all the time, but this time something goes wrong. It comes out less mean, more fond.
Stede is practically preening. “Why’d you come back, anyway? I thought you had plans.”
“Fell through,” Izzy says shortly. “What do you want to do?”
“Do?”
“You were making such a big fucking deal about spending time together. Here I am. What do you want to do for your birthday?”
They end up watching the rest of the movie. And drinking. It’s whiskey, fancy shit, with a label Izzy doesn’t recognize and a name he can’t pronounce. It tastes better than the best he serves at Jackie’s, but he doesn’t want to admit it. Stede notices, because of course he does, and grins victoriously.
“Good, isn’t it?”
“Oh, fuck off.” He refills his glass and Stede thankfully doesn’t gloat anymore.
“How can you afford all this fancy liquor and face creams if your father kicked you out?” Izzy asks.
He cringes. Even he knows he’s being an asshole.
Stede doesn’t seem bothered, though. He takes a long drink from his own misshapen Ed creation, a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re going to make fun of me. I have a trust, so financially I’m all set.”
Izzy scoffs. “You have a trust.”
“Am I not supposed to use it on principle?” Stede snipes. “What good does that do? I need money for school and rent and everything else.”
“Surprised your dad didn’t take it away if he was such a twat.”
“He couldn’t. It came from my grandparents on my mum’s side. So I don’t even feel bad about using it. It has nothing to do with him.”
Izzy wants to argue just for the sake of it, but bites his tongue. If he had access to money free and clear, he would use it. Not on the ridiculous shit Bonnet does, but still.
“You should have told Ed,” Izzy says. “He’s going to be insufferable when he finds out he missed your birthday.”
“You always think he’s insufferable.” Bonnet’s eyes are still red, but he’s smiling. It’s not like he usually smiles at Izzy, which is more of a smirk than anything, but something dangerously close to the one reserved for Ed.
“You both are.” The couch suddenly feels too small. Izzy doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
“Izzy . . .” Stede hesitates. Izzy knows he’s going to hate whatever comes next.
“What is it?”
“I know what I want for my birthday.”
“I’m drinking with you. That was your gift.”
Stede pretends he didn’t speak. “I’ll admit, Ed not being here is harder than I expected. I hate sleeping alone. I get nightmares sometimes.”
What could Stede possibly have nightmares about, Izzy wonders. Something to do with his arsehole father? The thought doesn’t sit well with him. He fights with Stede constantly, but Stede gives it back just as good. He doesn’t like the idea of someone deliberately trying to hurt him.
“What do you want, Bonnet?”
“Can we spend the night out here? Together? We could make a bed on the floor, have a sleepover like in the movies. I always thought that would be so fun!”
There he went again, making Izzy feel bad. Even he’d done the stereotypical sleepover, camping out in his backyard with Ed in a tent bought from Goodwill.
Izzy sighs, even as he stands. “If it’ll shut you up.”
“Really, Israel?” Stede jumps to his feet.
“Call me Israel again and I’ll change my mind.”
“Izzy, Izzy, Izzy!”
“Don’t say it like that!” Izzy has a sudden, intense memory of hearing Stede and Ed through the thin wall separating their bedrooms. Stede sounded just like that— “Ed, Ed, Ed, I love this, I love you, you feel so good”— embarrassing and rambling like an amateur porno. Izzy’s gut squirms, discomfort and something else that he refuses to name.
They push the coffee table to the side and pile the comforters from both beds, a few of the throw blankets Stede leaves all over the flat, and some pillows onto the floor.
Izzy changes into the shirt and sweats he normally sleeps in while Stede does his elaborate skincare routine in the shared bathroom. He feels like he’s dreaming. Is he really going to sleep next to Stede fucking Bonnet? He hates him. Well. He’s annoyed by him at the very least.
He lights a few candles because he knows Stede likes them and starts up another insipid-looking rom-com while he waits for Stede to finish. When Stede emerges his face is shiny with product and the red around his eyes is less prominent. He gasps with delight when he sees the set-up.
“Oh, Izzy, this is perfect!”
Izzy flushes and scowls. “It’s just some blankets on the floor.”
“I love it!”
Stede dives under the covers next to him. They’re much closer than before, touching from shoulder to hip just enough for Izzy to feel the heat of him. He shivers but doesn’t move away.
They start the movie and keep drinking. The further into the movie they get the more Stede sags against him. His glass tilts dangerously in his hand. Izzy snags it and sets it on the side table over his head. Without anything to hold, Stede goes completely boneless, snuggling into Izzy’s side.
Izzy goes very very still.
Has anyone ever cuddled with him? He wasn’t one for relationships or post hookup snuggles. He always thought they were a waste of time.
This is— nice. Stede is warm and ridiculously soft. His hands fist in the fabric of Izzy’s shirt and his breath puffs hot against Izzy’s chest.
“Sorry,” Stede mumbles, not sounding particularly sincere. “Is this okay?”
Is this how he is with Ed? Do they sleep twined together like weeds? Does Ed like it? Izzy thought he would hate it, but it’s already a fight to stop himself from wrapping his arms around Stede and squeezing him harder, tighter, closer.
“It’s fine I guess,” Izzy lies.
“I like cuddling.”
“You are the neediest creature I’ve ever met.”
“‘M not a creature.” Stede starts snoring shortly after.
Izzy sighs. He pets Stede’s hair now that he isn’t awake to notice. It’s as soft as Izzy thought it would be. The curls slide easily between his fingers. He wonders if Ed uses the same shampoo now, if his hair is just as soft.
Stede isn’t so annoying like this, unconscious and sleep-warm and heavy. Like this, Izzy can almost see why Ed likes him so much. It must be nice, having someone so obsessed with you, chanting your name like a prayer while you fuck, pressing themselves so close to you it’s like they want to crawl into your skin. Izzy imagines waking up like this every day. He could like cuddling, if it were like this.
Stupid, he tells himself. He’s being stupid. Stede is only doing this because he’s sad and his boyfriend isn’t here. When Ed comes back things will go back to normal.
“Happy birthday, Stede,” he says. He gives in and holds Stede close, just for a moment.
*