Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Maintaining secrecy for so long was never her intention.

There was a plan, initially – she would tell her parents in the morning after their third date, the night their bond was made official.

It was a plan that she had put extensive thought and effort into, planning the time and date such that she could avoid conflict and seek forgiveness within an hour of telling them.

Her mother has a saying, something about the best laid plans, and she's certain that it's the truth. That Sunday morning, before they were meant to leave for the service, a vision paralysed her. Voices crying out for help, a pale shape she could not discern, she was glued to her bed, unable to lift a limb.

Church has become a chore; her belief in God does not align with the things she can see. If God is omnibenevolent, why does he give her the hardest battles?

She has never been able to make sense of what she experiences, and on more than one occasion, she has felt that God had cursed her with the burden of these visions, rather than gifting her an insight into something holier than her mortality.

Concerned glances from her brother do little to ease her discomfort. If he can see something, surely the rest of the chapel can see the way her eyes linger on the door to the rectory, a room holding a story she can distantly hear. As the weeks pass, she learns more of what happened behind the door, how this church has borne the brutality of religious extremism.

None of the parishioners know what she sees in this house of God.

She can count the people who know of her visions on one hand - her parents and her brother.

And Ed.

It’s her deepest secret, but in a moment of weakness, the truth spilled from her lips. Where others would laugh and torment, Ed stayed. He pulled her closer, kissed her forehead, and recounted his experiences of the supernatural, proof of his belief.

Ed doesn’t claim to understand what she sees, and for that, she’s grateful.

Cheap platitudes of ‘I understand’ enrage her; nobody knows the trauma she lives with. Nobody understands the experience of being so disoriented, so lost in her mind, and her senses overloaded by unfamiliar voices and inexplicable anguish.

Lorraine doesn’t understand it either. Having Ed allows her to try to make sense of the things that she sees, the good and the bad; it’s mostly the latter.

In a sense, Ed knows more of her visions than she does. He’s witnessed her visions, he has guided her back to Earth when angels tried to pull her to Heaven, and demons dragged her to Hell. He’s grounded her when nothing else can, holding her hands in his own as she scratched at her limbs until the skin was raw and red, sore, blood threatening to spill.

The secrecy of their bond extends beyond her family.

Their peers are judgmental, and people talk, oftentimes requiring no more reasons to torment her; if they knew of her visions, the torture would be exacerbated.

She can endure the bullying; she has lived through it for months. But it would be cruel to subject Ed to the same torment.

What Lorraine has heard about Ed’s father is telling enough that he doesn't care about his son; he would not care if Ed announced he had a girlfriend. Ed’s father only cares to chase the bottom of another bottle.

But her parents would care.

The patriarch of the Moran family would undoubtedly have something to say if his only daughter came home with a boyfriend without any prior notice.

Five months have passed since she had planned to tell her family, and the right time has never arisen.

To do so is inexplicably nerve-wracking. She knows her parents would not lash out, but to confess the truth is daunting.

For that, their bond has maintained a vow of secrecy. Coveted moments of affection are limited to midnight rendezvous when Ed would sneak through her bedroom window, silently climbing the trellis when he was certain the neighbors weren't watching.

An hour of an embrace would suffice for Lorraine until they could see each other a few days later.

Forests, miles of almost impenetrable greenery, surround Connecticut. They can be found hiking through those trails during the day. It’s an area that few others have traversed, grounds roamed by nature.

And, as Lorraine learns in the autumn of 1943, it isn’t entirely free from evil.

Chapter Text

For anybody who had heard of what Lorraine has experienced, the silence would be haunting.

But for Lorraine, silence brings an escape from the noise in her mind, the noise of the world that she can never escape.

Few places in the world remain quiet; everywhere that’s touched by civilisation has been overrun by hatred, hauntings, and hurt.

The ground beneath her sneakers squelches, and mud cakes them with each step, but their surroundings are otherwise silent, and it’s blissful.

Fingertips graze her own as they wander aimlessly, side by side. They haven’t interlaced their fingers, but there’s no need to force affection when their bond is so developed.

The rainstorm that departed yesterday has banished most of the humidity, taking Lorraine’s migraine with it.  The dirt on her footwear should be another warning sign to her parents that something is amiss.

But they remain blissfully unaware, for which she’s neither grateful nor ungrateful.

Trees rustle as a breeze picks up, and she can’t hide the shiver that rocks her body. When she’d left the house with the excuse of a study group at the library, the heat from the sun was stifling. She’d forgone a jacket, and as the temperature plummets, she’s regretting that decision.

From the corner of her eye, she sees a little movement, but she doesn’t look over at Ed. His presence is comfort enough.

The weight of his arm comes to rest on her shoulder, pulling her closer. Warmth floods her system as she leans against him, his scent surrounding her in an embrace. Moments like these outweigh any more common dates.

Movies and dinner are what her classmates brag about, but none of them quite know the experience of solitude in a world of chaos.

The railroad isn’t far, a line used by freight trains to carry supplies out of town. Wood, steel, coal, she and Ed have watched trains on countless occasions.

They’re free from judgment here; the only humans are those driving the trains.

These woods are silent. No tortured souls linger in the grounds they have explored, and as they begin to explore more of the woods, Lorraine doesn’t feel so uncertain - Ed’s by her side, protection from that which cannot be seen.

It starts with a whisper, something too quiet to perceive.

She glances around, but nothing can be seen. Ed doesn’t stir; he’s still holding her close, and she banishes the thought from her mind, leaning closer to his warmth. It’s probably just an overactive imagination.

A gentle brushing of lips over her crown leaves her eyes drifting closed as they slow their pace, stopping amidst a clearing of trees. His arms wind around her waist, and he pulls her closer.

His arms are strong, and as he inhales her scent, she reaches up to rest her arms over his shoulders.

Miles of solitude give the privacy they need, and their embrace tightens.

The voices get louder, quiet talking becoming loud enough to discern the words. She hesitates, but when Ed doesn’t react, she doesn’t move.

It’s just a vision. It’s just a vision. It’s just a vision.

These days are coveted. Ongoing war brings fear. The battle won’t reach their shores, not in their lifetimes, but they’ve had peers drafted, friends and loved ones who have died in action.

And she can’t bear to lose Ed now.

“My pretty girl,” his voice is gentle, a whisper that pierces through the noise she’s hearing. Countless voices are silenced by three words, and his lips press against the top of her head again.

The day they properly kiss, she’s certain that she will see stars.

Her senses are overloaded as the voices become shouts, two or three voices emanating from somewhere in the branches. They’re calling her name, calling for her.

But Ed isn’t reacting to anything.

No matter how she tries, she can’t allow herself to ignore the vision.

Her steps are unsteady as she moves into the clearing, a perfect circle of trees. In the centre of the void, ashes remain, the remnants of a fire that’s taken hold in a time when the rainstorms should have extinguished the flames.

There’s only one thing it could be.

Turning on the spot, she scans the trees for the people who are taunting her. With each movement, the voices move out of sight to another direction, disorienting her as she tries to process the sensory overload.

Bitterly, she hopes it’s a prank. The alternative is that there is a lost soul in these woods, one she cannot save with her cursed gift.

Ed’s voice is gentle, calling out to her from a short distance as he tries to guide her back to reality. His concern is palpable as she looks at him, but she’s not seeing him. She can see his soul, she can feel his warmth, but she’s seeing through him.

The voices are amplified, everything coming at her faster, louder, hitting closer until- it’s all destroyed with the metal screeching of wheels on the train tracks. Right on cue, the lumber train races past.

Her ears ring until the train has passed. Silence surrounds them for but a moment, and then she’s swarmed, mobbed by spirits from every direction, all trying to take a swipe at her.

Several meters separate her and Ed, but he’s by her side in seconds, catching her as she collapses to her knees in the dirt. Sobs escape her as she clutches her ears, aching for the silence again.

“I’m here, hon, I got you,” his voice is gentle as his arms surround her shoulders, and he combs through her hair, “I’m right here, Lorraine.”

Unreceptive to his touch, he can do little but hold her until she’s free of this plague. He’s done this before, and he’ll do this again until the day he dies. He guides her head until it rests against his chest, her ear over his heart. His hand shields her other ear, narrowing her senses to his presence and nothing else.

With a little adjustment, he lifts her out of the dirt and into his lap. The ground is damp, her clothes will be filthy on return, but he’ll do what he can to ease the suffering. Her name escapes him, muttered as his lips press against her crown. His hands trace along her arms, waist, ribs, anywhere he can reach to comfort her.

Ed has seen countless inexplicable things in his life – furniture thrown, objects floating, figures in the night. None of the hauntings come close to being as shaken as he is when he sees the girl he loves lost in a place he cannot help her.

“You’re with me,” he reaffirms, and despite the discomfort of the moisture that’s soaked through his jeans, he does not move an inch.

Her breathing is ragged, but her sobs are quieter. She trembles in his embrace. Ed can’t determine if it’s from the temperature or the experience.

“You’re safe, Lorraine, I’m here,” Ed repeats, countless other words remain unspoken as he guides her back to Earth.

It was one of the better visions.

It wasn’t good, but it was a better moment. She didn’t hurt herself. Scratches have left scars on her arms from those moments of distance in the past, scars that left the school nurse asking more questions than she cared to answer.

This time, aside from the dirt coating her clothing, the physical effects are minimal.

Her voice is raw, she feels weak, and as she utters her name, she doesn’t recognise herself.

“I’m here,” he promises, his thumb sweeping away the tears on her cheeks. Her head lifts, slowly, and blue eyes meet. She’s looking back at him, and though her eyes are haunted, filled with pain, when she looks back at him, she can feel his love overwhelming the hatred.

Nothing can heal her soul from what she has seen in visions in her lifetime, nothing can free her from the voices she’s heard, but as she crumbles into his arms, she can feel the fragments beginning to repair.

Arms wind around her shoulders, and he holds her to his chest as she buries herself in his warmth. If anybody saw them like this, assumptions would be made, and people would talk. Their bond would be the talk of the town - Lorraine is sitting in Ed’s lap, for goodness’ sake, why would somebody assume anything less?

But they haven’t kissed yet.

Some people like tongue, Lorraine has heard, though she can’t imagine what that would feel like. Would Ed kiss her gently, or would he devour her? Would he hold her gentle, or would his hands grip her thighs and speckle gentle bruises that she’d admire?

What the hell is going on in her head?!

“You’re okay,” he promises, stroking through her hair again, “I’m here.”

Those four words bring her more safety and comfort than the bible on her nightstand, more than the rosary her grandmother gifted. His embrace is stronger than anything she learned in the Church classes.

In his presence, she’s safe from everything – supernatural, or otherwise.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, her gaze lowering to her knees. They’re dirtied with mud, and her parents are undoubtedly going to question her when she returns home. If not for the mud on her knees, she could use the excuse of taking a walk through the park – but being on her knees is less excusable.

“Hey, no,” Ed’s voice is firm as he takes both of her hands in his own. He’s able to command her attention with two words. She’s never been one to blindly obey, but Ed knows what she needs to hear, and she knows that she is safe with him.

Obeying Ed is easy when he only wants the best for her.

“I told you, remember? You don’t need to apologise for visions; you have no control over them. You are safe with me, and I will never, never, make an issue out of them.”

Lorraine nods silently.

His words circle in his mind. It’s everything she’s wanted to hear – simultaneously, too much, and not enough. Years have been spent without any reassurance, and now that he’s here, she never wants him to leave.

“You don’t have to do anything, Lorraine, but…” he hesitates over the words. Asking a loaded question could set her back.

Or it could give her the courage to tell him what she needs.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks.

He hopes that she knows the truth, that she could ask the world of him, and he would do everything in his power to bring her the Earth and more. If he could take the burden of her visions, he would do so in an instant. He would not hesitate to take that curse and free her from the shackles.

He’s not so blessed, but he can do something that no other will. He listens, and he supports her. She regularly reminds him of her appreciation, when the visions are not so prevalent, his comfort is more faith-affirming than anything that God could show her.

Sometimes, her insecurities become too much.

Ed regularly reminds her that it’s no challenge for him to stay with her, it’s no chore to love you. His support means the world to Lorraine, and she can never thank him enough, not that he ever wants thanks.

Her lip quivers, and she slowly shakes her head as she buries her face into the crook of his shoulder, tears on her cheeks staining the grey fabric of his sweatshirt. Little can be done to help her through the aftermath of a haunting, a time of exhaustion and fatigue that overwhelms her.

“Shall we get you back home?” he suggests, glancing up at the sky – “You, um, you said you normally get exhausted after a… a vision? Experience? I don’t know what you prefer to call them…”

Her mother calls them visions, but Lorraine has far more colourful language to describe the burden. Visions, experiences, curses. Torture from a God who doesn’t care, maybe.

It’s something she can’t make sense of.

Going home does sound delightful. But it would cut their date short, and they’re few and far between as is. Between school, Ed’s work, and her family, they have a few hours a week together, and to have one interrupted by a vision is unsettling.

“And it looks like a storm might come through soon. I don’t want you getting sick from the storms, not when you’ve got to recover from those…”

Her heart skips a beat.

Nobody has treated her like this, with the kindness and care that she aches for. Nobody has been so gentle.

It’s all that she has ever wanted and so much more.

“O-okay…”

Her voice is a little less weak as she nods. With a small frown, he presses a soft kiss to her head, holding her in a tight embrace as soft sobs escape her. If his touch guides her out of the dark, he will hold her until she’s infuriated by his presence.

If his voice soothes her agony, he will speak until he’s hoarse, and then he will continue.

For Lorraine, he will do anything to ensure that she is happy, healthy, safe.

The first drop of rain lands on his head, and he glances up. Few clouds litter the sky above them, but they’ve managed to linger in the space unsheltered, in the centre of the circle of trees.

There are so many things that Ed wants to say, but he doesn’t have the confidence to say such painful truths. He wants to promise her that things will get better, but he isn’t sure that they will.

He wants to promise he’ll be here forever, but with the ongoing war, he’s not sure he’ll be here forever. He has no say in the matter, counting down the days until the war ends or the draft letter is in his hands.

The things he can control are the promises he so frequently makes.

“M-mom and dad are going to have a fit,” she admits weakly, and leans on Ed to stand upright. The noise around her isn’t quieter, but she’s more grounded in reality as he stands up, adjusting his jeans.

“Let them,” Ed shrugs, and brushes away the dirt from his jeans, glancing over Lorraine’s legs – aching to wipe away the mud on her slacks, but he knows that he can’t touch her like that.  

“You don’t have to face their interrogation,” Lorraine’s voice lifts in a gentle laugh that feels forced. “You can go home as soon as I’m at the door. I, um, I’ll try and find some time for another day, if you want?”

“Only if you want me to leave will I go; if you want me to stay, I will,” Ed offers, interlacing their fingers as he looks towards the route they took. It’s a short walk to town – it felt further earlier, it took them far longer than it should have done. With no need to rush, their steps were slower, and they were free to delay, indulging in their time together.

If only they could do the same every day.

“You know I would have you over more if I had any say in the matter,” she confesses, leaning against Ed as she takes shaky steps, “They don’t know, I… I’m trying to get there. I am, Ed. I want them to know, but I… I just…”

She looks down at her shoes and tries to find the words inside. It’s not that she can’t tell them – she can. Her parents aren’t cruel; they’re not horrible people. But a father is bound to be protective of his daughter, and she doesn’t want to subject Ed to more pain when he endures so much at home.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he says gently, a promise that he’s kept since the day they met, “Not to me, Lorraine.”

His hand squeezes hers, and she nods, resting her head on his shoulder. They stop momentarily, and Ed’s strong hands rub over her shoulders. She’s shivering, but his touch warms her.

“Do you want a drink?” Ed offers, feeling for the few coins in his pocket, there’s enough for some water, but he’s not sure if it would help with the impending nausea. He’s seen the side effects, he’s witnessed her retching into a trash can, clutching her stomach as she writhed in agony.

He’ll do whatever she needs.

“I don’t have any money,” she admits.

Ed frowns and glances over at her, “I don’t-, I, I wasn’t asking if you had money, Lorraine. Do you want some water? I’ll pay…”

Lorraine’s heart skips a beat, her breath catches in her throat, and she can’t believe the words she’s hearing. Nodding feels too much, but it’s all she can do.

Her voice is weak, raw, and as she looks over at him, her heart judders again. Never has she wanted to shout something like she does now – she wants to shout her love for Ed to the world; she wants to let everybody in their small town know how amazing he is.

Nobody could ever understand her like he does.

With the answer agreed, but unspoken, he squeezes her hand again.

“You’re safe with me, hon, you never need to feel guilty for what is out of your control. Don’t feel guilty about asking me for things, Lorraine, I want the best for you,” he promises, and guides her into his embrace, “I want to give you everything you’ve never had, I want you to feel safe with me, safe to be yourself, to have those experiences, and to know that you’re going to be cared for…”

If she hadn’t already sobbed, Lorraine is certain that tears would be streaming over her cheeks as she inhales his scent. Countless doubts settle in her mind, but he’s there to banish each one away, reassuring her with a gentle embrace and gentler touches.

As she lifts her head, his eyes meet hers. Momentarily, a question lingers in her mind, but the certainty in his eyes answers the question before she can verbalise it.

Of course, he’s sure.

“Water, any snacks?” he offers, a little nervous as they resume their journey towards town. Their bond is unspoken to their peers – and Ed is content letting her take the lead.

If he can give her control anywhere, he’ll do so. Her life continually takes away her control, her grip on reality. Giving her something she can control is another way that she can ground herself in reality.

And there’s something strangely comforting about keeping a secret of their bond – that nobody else is allowed to see the side of Lorraine that he sees. She’s unlike anything he had heard about her; she’s so much better.

Moving into town, he’d immediately heard the whispers of the strange girl who stares into the distance and has breakdowns when the wind blows. But he ignored those, a firm believer that he couldn’t make a judgment until he had met her.

And he’s never been more grateful for that.

“I… I don’t know…” she whispers, squeezing his hand. There’s never going to be a perfect time, but the question she wants to ask is lingering on her tongue, waiting for her to find her voice.

Do they tell her family? Do they tell the people in town?  Where is the line drawn for those who know and those who won’t?

And Ed is so maddeningly perfect that he would give an answer that gives her the control that she cannot find elsewhere in her life.

In their bond, she’s his equal. Archaic beliefs surround the people in their lives – a woman should be subservient, submissive, following along with everything a man says. When she’s with Ed, Lorraine is equally in control.

She can say no, and she knows that Ed will respect her boundaries.

Would telling people take away that last ounce of control that she has? Would she spiral as word spread amongst their peers?

How would Ed be treated as their relationship became the talk of the town?

“What time do you need to be home?”

Despite knowing the answer, she asks the question anyway. Ed’s father has never cared too much, and she has often pondered if he could sneak away for entire nights without being caught.

“Dad said five, but he doesn’t know five from ten anymore.”

Lorraine squeezes his hand, nodding slowly as she tries to make sense of what it is she wants. She knows what she desires, but to verbalise it is strangely daunting.

“Would you lay with me at home? I- I think I’m ready for them to know… and to lie somewhere, to fall asleep in your arms. Somewhere quiet, somewhere… somewhere only us.”

It’s the closest she can get to explaining how she would love the ability to lie with Ed, how she aches to hold him in her bed, to curl up in his arms, and to know she is safe.

“If you’re sure, then of course I will.”

Maddeningly perfect, as always.

Lorraine nods and turns to him, only a thin wall of trees separating them from the edge of the neighbourhood. It’s bold, it’s risky, and it’s too close to town to maintain secrecy.

But with Ed, she’s a different woman.

Leaning up, she pulls him into a tight embrace, her eyes closing as she buries her face against his neck. He stills for a moment, but his arms wind around her torso, starting from her ribs and embracing down to her hips.

Bodies flush, it’s improper for a woman of her age to be embracing him like this – she should be seeking the Lord’s wisdom and forgiveness for the impurity of their embrace. The feeling of those strong arms around her is worth the supposed sin.

If this is a sin, a life of virtue and righteousness is not the life she wants to live.

“You are everything to me…” he whispers, his lips moving over her crown as he tries to forget the anxiety of going home to his father.

Her grip tightens around him. As healing as he is for her, she is just as healing for him. He can forget the things he’s endured when they’re together; he can forget about his father and his haunted home. He can ignore the looming draft and the certainty of death it will bring.

This coveted moment is a memory she will carry through her days until he comes back to her.

“My pretty girl,” he hums, pressing an innocent kiss to her neck. It’s an indelible mark of his love, one that settles deep in her heart as he mumbles, “Are you ready to head back?”

It’s a short journey to her house, only fifteen minutes or so, but fifteen minutes feels endless when an hour is often the most time they have together. Unclear of whether they are ready to show their bond to the world, those fifteen minutes could be the last they have together for days.

Lorraine is ready; she’s certain of it.

“If it means we can lay together…” she murmurs, eyes closed as she inhales his scent, eyes closed against his shirt. Even in the cold of the autumn day, he’s warm, comforting her with his presence alone.

“We can lay together once we’ve got you home, cleaned up, and warm. I don’t want you to get sick,” Ed promises.

With a little movement, he guides his arms out of the sleeves of his coat, and he lets it rest over her shoulders. It dwarfs her small stature, covering down to the middle of her thighs. At once, his scent floods her senses. It’s another grounding mechanism as the vision continues to fade from her psyche.

“It won’t hide all of the dirt, but the mud is a little less… obvious…,” he offers weakly and gestures to the mud coating her lower half. The sight of his girl in his clothes stokes an inherent urge, something primal that he never knew existed.

Maddeningly perfect.

Lorraine smiles fondly and leans against him, her forehead resting over his heart, “You’re so good to me…”

“I’ve told you before, hon, you deserve nothing but the best…” his voice is gentle as he caresses her cheek, their eyes meeting, “I promise that I will do everything that you ask of me, everything to make you believe me when I tell you that…”

Lorraine sinks into the depths of his eyes, overwhelmed by his adoration and love in ways she has never felt. Nobody has been so kind to her, nobody has cared like he does, and for that, she can do little more than tear up in his embrace.

“I love you,” she whispers and pulls him into her arms again to hide the emotion that’s spilling from her eyes, quiet sniffles escaping her.

“Oh, hon,” he coos and strokes his hands along her spine, “I love you too. I love you so much, Lorraine, I love you.”

No words feel sufficient for this moment. He’s surrounding her from her head to her toes, and her senses too – this is surely her Heaven. The world doesn’t feel so daunting when they stand together like this.

More raindrops begin to fall, heavier, larger, and one lands on her head with a splat.

“C’mon, let's get you home before it gets heavier. I’ll stay with you until you’re sick of me,” he murmurs, reluctant to part from her embrace.

“Oh, Ed, I don’t think I could ever get sick of you…” she confesses, her thumb grazing over his cheek.

“Well, remember that in thirty years,” Ed chuckles, squeezing her hand again as he lifts her knuckles to his lips.

He’s overwhelmed by his desire to kiss her, to show her how important she is – to him, to his world, to every core part of himself. No gesture could ever be adequate for how she makes him feel.

“Oh yeah?” Lorraine chuckles, raising an eyebrow as she tries to regain composure. He’s trailing kisses over her knuckles, gentle affection that’s almost overwhelming.

“Yeah,” he answers coolly, “My hands get cold. They might end up giving you a chill in the middle of the night…”

Lorraine leans up on her tiptoes, her lips close to his ear as she murmurs, “I suppose we’ll just have to warm you up too…”

With her implication evident, she reluctantly parts their embrace and takes a few steps back, approaching town. It’s far beyond anything she would normally do, too flirtatious for the good church girl that her parents believe her to be.

But with Ed, she’s a different person.

Ed’s eyes are wide; his breath caught in his throat as he watches her. Something primal is flooding his nervous system, something inherent that he cannot shake – a desire, an urge, a need to protect her, love her, worship her.

He wants to marry her, and so much more.

“C’mon, Romeo,” she teases and holds her hand towards him, “Before you get wet…”

Her laugh is the softest sound, and he approaches her, reaching out to interlace their fingers, “I mean it, I love you…”

He’s said those three words before, but something about this time feels different.

When she hears the words, it changes everything about their bond. But somehow, nothing has changed. They’re the same couple they were when they left their homes under differing excuses.

No longer does she want to keep things secret; no longer does she want to pretend that she didn’t fall for the artist with brilliant blue eyes and a leather jacket that creates the appearance of a bad boy.

With each step towards the store, Ed’s nerves begin to rise. He’s never dated before; he’s never faced a father other than his own.

It’s daunting. He knows how it appears to others, how odd it appears for him to be so lax when other men expect their girlfriends to do everything they demand.

That’s not Ed.

He has no demands in a relationship – whether it’s chores, affection, or promises. It’s a partnership; they are equals. Anything else creates a power imbalance, and he knows he’s not the level-headed, calm person who should be in control.

Ed needs someone to control his temper and steady him, just as Lorraine needs a guiding hand when the world is unfamiliar and unsafe.

They complement each other perfectly.

“Are you sure about telling your parents?” he asks quietly, unable to hide the tremor in his voice as they linger in the parking lot of the store.

“I am,” Lorraine nods, turning to face him. Her hand lingers on his cheek as she asks, “If you are?”

He cups her hand, leaving a chaste kiss on her knuckles, “I am. I just, I know parents are difficult. I don’t want you to have any issues…”

It’s a weak excuse, and they both know he’s lying.

He’s never had a caring parent – his father has left Ed with a distrust towards authority figures, and an anxiety he cannot hide from.

She shrugs, and a smile lifts her lips, repeating the words he spoke earlier, “Let them…”

The old Lorraine would never say such a thing; she would panic and silence herself, finding an excuse to delay the introduction for longer.

With Ed, she’s a different person. He’s built her confidence, giving her wings when the world tries to drown her, and she can never lose the growth he encouraged.

His smile is fond, and his hair is plastered to his head, as he pulls her closer, “I’m so proud of you.”

It’s the closest to those three words that they’ve said close to civilisation, and it’s his way of saying how he feels when the risk of someone hearing love is great.

With the embrace parting as soon as it starts, their first steps into the store forces them to separate, hands occasionally brushing together but never interlacing. Each fleeting touch leaves sparks shooting through her veins; it’s the most heavenly feeling.

Reaching over, Ed slips his hand into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small handful of coins.

“Are you sure?” Lorraine asks nervously. Always one to ignore her needs, she’s often going without necessities to not be a bother. “We’re going home, I can get a drink there.”

Ed reaches down and squeezes her hand momentarily, “Lorraine, I am certain. What you go through with those experiences, I… I can’t imagine what it’s like. I know you usually feel sick after, and if a bottle of water helps you begin to recover, it’s worth so much more than the change I keep in my pocket. I’ll never make it so that you feel like a burden for something you cannot control.”

Despite his hand slipping from hers, Lorraine allows her soul to relax in his affection and love. He’s giving it so freely, and she’s denied herself his affection for so long that she’s almost fearful to take the risk.

A glance over her shoulder confirms that nobody else is down the aisle. It’s no easy feat, it’s long overdue, and it’s a journey that she’s only a fraction of the way through. But as their fingers interlace, and his lips curve into a smile, she knows that with Ed by her side, they’ll create the life she has dreamed of.

Everybody’s journey is different; some people need a little longer, and that’s okay.

Chapter Text

This house has been her home since the day she was born; it's not somewhere unfamiliar. There are no societal expectations here; she can be her truest self, no demands to hide her visions out of fear of scaring those who don't understand. 

Walking through the alleyway towards her home, Lorraine is terrified. It's not who she's with that's terrifying her, or where she is going.

It's those who reside in the house. 

Her parents have never been cruel to her or any of her friends, but life has been far from kind to Ed. His father is a harsh man, and Ed needs a safe place. If he can't find that with Lorraine, where else could he be himself?

Entwined fingers bring her the familiar comfort that she needs, and with his jacket over her shoulders, she's warm too. It's the only benefit of the passageway being the maze it is, a blessing that allows them to have this moment together, without being seen by anybody who knows them. 

“Are you still sure about this?” Ed asks, slowing to a halt. He turns to look at her, and his blue eyes meet hers. He's always given her warmth, kindness, care, love. 

Even now, a moment that puts as much pressure on him as the world puts on her, he cares only about her. 

“I think so,” she says quietly and caresses his cheek. His eyes drift closed as he leans into her touch, starved of the simplest affection since the day his mother died. 

“We don’t have to,” Ed offers. He will always cede control if that’s what she needs - regardless of whether it's about their bond, what they do, or even their seats in the theatre. “If you’re not ready, we don’t have to. You’re in charge here; I won’t force you or push anything. It’s up to you entirely.” 

In a world that takes every ounce of control she has, her Ed is perfect, knowing what she needs. In a relationship like theirs, control isn't used and abused to manipulate. 

Control is an act of kindness, giving them both what they need to heal from their trauma. Ed heals by no longer being his own parent, having the freedom to let someone else take charge, and that's what Lorraine needs.

She leans up onto her tiptoes and pulls him into a tight embrace. It feels like that first night all over again, sheltering from the storm beneath the bandstand that's become a core part of their relationship. 

It's become the location they meet when they have plans, and when they have no plans for their days together, they can be found on the seats beneath. To the world around them, they appear as friends, but their bond is far more profound than any friendship could be. 

Time slows around them, and she lifts his hand, looking at their entwined fingers. It’s a sight she adores, one she’s etched into her memory for the long, lonely nights, and it confirms what she already knew. 

"I'm ready." 

“You are so beautiful,” he breathes, his eyes focused on hers as he squeezes her waist. It's improper; his hands are too low for any good-natured Christian boy, but her Ed has always pushed limits and boundaries, and it's not always a negative thing.

Rules are made to be broken, limits are made to be pushed. 

The words he spoke linger in her mind. She has never seen herself as beautiful; she has never seen herself the way he sees her, but she believes him. 

The reverence in his words cannot be matched; it's beyond anything she has experienced, and it's all that she desires. 

“I love you so much,” he promises, his thumb grazing her cheek, “and this, us? It’s your pace. We can do this, we can do everything, but only when you are ready…”

It's everything that she needs, and it's so much more, too. An equal in their relationship, it goes against everything the world has taught them.

Women are lesser. 

Women should be subservient.

Ed has never held her to that regard, and he never will. His gentle words ease her nerves as she peers towards the house, separated only by the low line of the hedges around the garden fence and a brick wall. 

"I love you," she whispers, resting her head against his chest. Beneath the cotton of his tee, she can hear his heart beating; she can feel the rise and fall with every breath as they embrace each other.

His comfort surrounds her, and his lips graze against her crown. 

“I’m ready,” she promises and glances over at the house again. Her parents are in the study, but she knows that if they could, they would watch her for every moment of the day. 

They’ve never been overbearing, but as she grew into her gift, things began to change. It was the bullying that led to her being pulled out of activities, the excuse of protection only isolating her further, thereby making things worse.

Meeting Ed pulled her from the shell they had created, showing her a new world as she grew out of the shackles her parents inadvertently created. 

She is ready to tell her parents, but there's more to it. She wants to tell the world, to share affection freely, and not feel anxious about who may see. 

To share an embrace with Ed, to lie in her bed and talk about their dreams of the future, that’s a dream in itself. She’s imagined such moments, aching for the day that she could finally experience such joy.

“Lead the way,” he smiles and interlaces their fingers. His warmth floods her veins at once, and as she takes a shaky breath, it comforts her. His presence gives her the confidence to take the first step, out of the alleyway and onto the main road. 

“My dad, he’s not that bad.” She hopes the words are reassuring, but it’s difficult to know what to say, knowing Ed’s experiences are worse than Hell, “he’s nothing like yours. But he’s a dad, I’m his baby girl, you know what they’re like. If you ever have a daughter, I imagine you’ll be the same. He doesn’t get angry, but he is protective.”

Across the street, she looks up at the house. From the position, she can see her mother in the window of the study - not looking, but watching. 

“Lorraine, honestly,” Ed squeezes her hand and glances over at her, “It’s going to be okay. We can do this; I’m right by your side.”

It’s time.

A silent prayer is sent to the God she has doubted of late, and then, she takes another step towards the house. Ed remains at her side, falling in line with her pace as they cross the road.

Only a few years back, Lorraine was terrified of jaywalking. Ed's encouraging the growth of a wilder side, creating the confidence she needs to mature into adulthood. 

His words are repeating in her mind, like a broken record. Gentle affection, his profound promises, these moments of affection are what keep her going when things are difficult, when the world is no longer safe.

Right by your side. I love you.

For a man who has experienced more than his fair share of demons, Ed Warren is truly a caring soul.

As they stop on the porch, Lorraine is overrun by tremors. It shouldn't be so nerve-wracking. 

"It's okay," Ed whispers and kisses her cheek as he reaches up and opens the door for her. His arm is strong and guiding as he holds the door for her, helping her inside. 

Every action is that of a gentleman, everything a father would want for her daughter, and Lorraine hopes her parents can see beyond the scars that Ed's father left, to see the caring soul beneath. He's battered and bruised by the home he resides in, but he's broken the cycle of abuse already.

And Ed, far unlike his father, has better control of his temper. Even when he’s stressed, frustrated, he’s never shouted, sworn, or thrown anything. On the rare occasions peers have seen them together, they've made tormenting jibes about Ed being friends with the freak, and she's seen how protective Ed can become. 

His fury didn't terrify her like she had imagined, though; it lit a fire in the pit of her stomach, something she never knew existed. 

His father's temper is evident in Ed when the circumstances are tense enough, but even then, he has never subjected Lorraine to the abuse that Ed endures every day. 

From what Lorraine has heard, occurrences of anger, violence, shouting, and rage are standard for Ed’s father on a good day. Lorraine could never imagine such fear shaping a person into somebody like Ed.

Her Ed is truly blessed. 

And she is blessed to have him in her life. 

“Mom, I’m home,” Lorraine shouts towards the stairs, slowly bending down to remove her shoes.

Glancing to her side, she notices immediately that Ed has already removed his, leaving them on the doormat. There’s no mud traipsed through the house from him.

Another thing that should improve her parents’ judgment.

He's nervous, glancing from side to side to understand his surroundings. But he remains proper, not glancing at her rear, no matter how he wants to - he's still a teenage boy at his core. 

Her father’s voice comes from the stairs, “Ah, you finally brought him home!” 

At once, she glances up as she stands upright and adjusts her clothing. Unable to hide her frown, the confusion on her face must be evident as she finds her parents looking back at her. 

“You, you’re the boy making my daughter so happy?” His question is aimed at Ed, laden with a false disdain. He cares about Lorraine’s happiness, and Lorraine knows that the act will fall sooner or later.

“I-um, yes, sir,” she’s never seen Ed so nervous, but reaching out, her finger grazes the side of his hand.

Right by your side. I love you.

“And what’s your name?” he asks. Lorraine can see the weak attempt from her father to appear intimidating as he descends the stairs; the act is a far cry from the man he actually is.

“Edward, sir, Edward Warren," Ed answers, his eyes focused on the man approaching him, and the woman a short distance behind. 

He's never faced a circumstance like this; nothing can prepare him for the questions they may ask. Lorraine's by his side, though, and she'll comfort him as much as he comforts her. 

"You knew?" Lorraine asks, ignoring her father, to look up at her mother. The bond has been the hardest secret she's kept. How do they already know?

“Of course, we noticed,” her mother laughs and stands on the bottom step, “You used to spend your time buried in books. Now you’re going out, you’re happier than we’ve seen in years, only a boy could make you smile like that.”

Lorraine’s cheeks pink as she glances over at Ed, who is smiling as much as she is. But he’s smiling at her, his eyes filled with adoration that’s only for her.

Her heart flutters, and she can feel the love radiating from him. 

“And,” Lorraine’s mother continues, as she steps down to the floor, “Anybody who makes you so happy is a person we want to meet.”

Lorraine nods and squeezes Ed’s hand nervously, his warmth flowing through her veins and comforting her nerves.

“Oh, look at the rain,” Lorraine’s father comments, glancing out of the window, “You got back just in time.”

Lorraine nods and slowly gestures to the mud on her trousers, “I um, I had another vision…”

She sees the moment her mother processes what was said, the uncertainty in her eye as she looks between Ed and Lorraine. 

"He helped a lot," Lorraine adds, and pulls the sleeves of Ed's jacket over her hands. They agreed that nobody would ever know, and they promised that they'd never tell a soul. 

But she told Ed she's brought him into the family secret, and for that, her parents should be angry.

"Was it bad?" her father asks, concern in his voice as he halts between the door and the kitchen. 

"Bad enough," Lorraine confesses. She didn't see anything, but what she experienced was awful, overwhelmingly terrifying her soul, "but Ed helped. He helped me..." 

Ed's thumb traces along her palm, "I always will."

His gentle promise leaves her parents smiling, and Lorraine can't hide the smile on her face as she looks back at him. Deep blue eyes tug her soul, and she aches to lie in his arms, to bury herself in his warmth and ignore the world outside.

"So, Edward, tell me about yourself? James will just get us something to drink," Lorraine's mom says, and leads both Ed and Lorraine to the living room. 

Unsure of where her brother is, Lorraine settles beside Ed on the settee, not separating their hands for a moment. It's as comforting for Ed as it is for her. 

Almost forty minutes of intensive questioning would leave most men shuddering, but Ed has answered each question with the propriety of a perfect man, one that any parents would approve of. 

"Can I..." Lorraine interrupts whatever her mother's next question is, exhaustion heavy in her bones, "Can Ed and I go and lay down? I'm... I'm very tired, after the experience earlier..." 

It's difficult to find the way to word it. 

The request is improper. No young woman should lie in a bed with her boyfriend before marriage.

But that's what she needs to do to heal from what she saw. 

A gentle laugh from her father catches her attention, and she looks over, "You can do anything you wish to in this house, so long as your trousers stay on."

“In that case,” Lorraine can’t hide the smile on her face, “I’ll go and change out of these muddy clothes first…”

Standing from the sofa, she squeezes Ed's hand again, "I'll be two minutes." 

Ed nods and smiles slightly, watching as she leaves the room. It's terrifying to be alone with her parents, to not have her support, but he can make this work. 

Her parents have been nothing but accepting of him, despite how he appears, and for that, he's grateful. 

"So, Edward, how did you two meet?" Lorraine's father asks. 

"We were at the um, the theatre, sir," Ed stutters slightly, and tries to regain his composure, "I work there, you see. And Lorraine was there, she was... I think with her friends. But Lorraine was there, and through a crowd, I saw her. I was stunned..." 

He looks down at his palms, "It would be blasphemous to say that she is an angel from Heaven, but that is the closest I can describe her. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen..." 

A small smile lifts his cheeks as he recalls the night, the joy he felt as they raced through the park for solace amidst a rainstorm. 

"We met at the theatre. I took her for a drink afterwards, ice cream, and milkshakes... it doesn't pay a lot, but the job introduced us," his cheeks are pink as he lets the words linger in the air, before confessing, "That's better than any amount of money." 

After a few moments, he lifts his head. The smiles on her parents' faces are wide, and he's not sure if it reassures him or makes his nerves worse. 

"You're a good man, Edward Warren," Lorraine's father finally says, his hand firm as he reaches out and shakes Ed's hand, "A good man, the best for my daughter. I've never seen her so happy. We knew there was somebody in her life who was treating her well, but we could never have imagined somebody as good as you." 

"Oh, it's nothing, sir," Ed tries to shrug it off, never quite able to face people complimenting him, "I'm treating her with the care she deserves. So many people are harsh and cruel, but they don't see the Lorraine Moran that I see..." 

He shrugs slightly, "It's no chore to treat her with kindness and care, when all I know for her is love."

His voice is a little distant to his own ears, and his cheeks ache with the smile on his face as he imagines her upstairs, changing into clean clothes, washing the dirt from her hands. 

"I know," Lorraine's father smiles, "We know you love her." 

Ed nods and smiles, though before he can respond, the sound of footsteps on the stairs captures his attention, and his smile widens when he sees her approaching. 

Chapter Text

With the blanket pulled up to her shoulders, Lorraine should be warm.

Her bedroom always feels colder than the rest of the house, even in the height of summer. No matter how he investigates it, her father has been unable to find a cause for the frigidity, leaving a chill she cannot shake from her core.

A shiver races along her spine as the wind outside picks up, and rain hammers against the window. 

Ed’s arm winds over her waist, pulling her closer as he hums, his nose dragging along her neck. Reaching down, she interlaces their fingers and lets her eyes drift.

It wouldn't be a wasted afternoon if they fell asleep now.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Ed murmurs as he plants a soft kiss behind her ear, “It went better than I thought it would.”

With her lips lifting into a small smile, she turns in Ed’s embrace. To meet his eyes requires her to tilt her head back; he’s a few inches taller than her.

It’s no toil to look up at him.

Ed looks good, and that’s the case regardless of which angle she sees him. It’s enticing to look up at him, to see him looking back down at her with adoration in his eyes.

After a few seconds, Ed shuffles until they’re face to face, his thumb grazing over her cheek. Lorraine’s eyes close under his touch, and the pad of his thumb drifts lower, ghosting over her lips.

“My pretty girl,” he whispers.

Mine.

Her heart stutters, and his love floods her nervous system.

Connecticut has been cold of late, rainstorms passing through, leaving a chill in the air that’s shaken her. This is the warmest she's felt in weeks, surrounded by his presence.

His arms hold her close, the firm muscles around her shoulders are overwhelming her nervous system with warmth and safety. It’s all that she knows, a feeling she never wants to lose.

As she lifts her hand, it trembles, coming to rest on his jaw. Pubescent facial hair leaves her fingertips tingling, and the warmth of her touch leaves Ed's eyes closing, leaning into her touch. 

From the day their bond transformed from courting to lovers, they've dreamt of moments like these. 

Throughout their lives, they've endured similar levels of anguish. On opposite ends of the same spectrum, they lived vastly different childhoods. 

When Lorraine looks into his blue eyes, she doesn’t see the boy who’s tortured at home, working every hour he can get to earn a pittance, enough that he can move out as soon as he’s old enough to do so.

She doesn’t see the boy who spends his limited free time by her side, protecting her from visions in her head and the people in their town. 

She doesn’t see the person his father has tried to mould him into.

She sees Ed Warren, a man who has been shaped by his anguish into the most perfect boyfriend anybody could have.

Side by side, they have changed their fates.

They have created a life together with a future that's promising so much more than the hell they have survived.

It’s not clear who moves first, but as their lips edge closer, Ed’s voice is a soft whisper, “Lorraine?”

It’s one word, her name, but it’s so beautifully uttered, his gentle concern is everything she has never had. The way he says her name leaves a flame in her stomach and love filling her soul.

Words fail her, but actions do not.

With a soft nod, she presses their lips together.

Her eyes drift closed as his thumb drifts from her lips towards her cheek, his fingers tangling through her hair to hold her closer, in a gentle embrace.

It’s a kiss like out of those cheesy romance movies her grandmother used to watch; she never imagined she would have such an experience.

As Ed’s hand drifts lower, resting on the side of her neck, his thumb tilts her head back lightly, deepening the kiss. Her hand lifts to rest on his wrist. She can feel each movement of the fine bones beneath her fingers, grounding herself in his warmth.

The fingers that are tangled in her hair are the same ones he’s created artworks that rival those of Da Vinci and Monet. He’s sketched her, too.

It’s shielded in the small box beneath her bed, filled with trinkets from their dates. A variety of mementos are hidden in a memory box that no other has seen – her ticket from the movie theatre, when she and Ed a few hours after his shift in the theatre, a photo that she took when her grandma gifted her a polaroid camera, letters and poetry he has written amidst detentions, acting out to avoid his home.

Nobody has seen such valuables, and she intends to keep it that way.

On long and lonely nights, Lorraine finds more comfort in the sheaves of paper, adorned with almost illegible, scratchy writing, than she does in the plush duvet. The only thing that comforts her more is Ed’s embrace, and now that she’s experienced his touch, she never wants to lose this.

His tongue moves against her lips, a question unspoken in the gesture. It leaves her mind wandering as they curl closer.

His tongue grazes the seam of her lips again, a question she answers easily. Her lips open, and she leans back, pulling him closer as his tongue sweeps into her mouth. 

Strong hands hold her shoulders as they move together, gravitating into each other's embrace as they share a first kiss unlike anything she could have imagined for herself. His touch is intoxicating.

If this is what it’s like to be drunk, she never wants to be sober.

In a gentle push and pull, they move closer, equally dominating the kiss. For every moment of domination, she's submissive too, letting his touch guide her into a place where all she knows is his touch, his taste, the feeling of their lips moving together.

It’s only when she can no longer breathe that she reluctantly separates from him. A string of saliva connects their lips as she rests her forehead against his, panting quietly.

His hands are gentle as he drags along her sides. His eyes are closed, and she could almost imagine that he's asleep. 

She knows he's awake, though, and his chest heaves with soft breaths as he savours the moment until his eyes slowly open. 

Her beauty is blinding.

Lorraine Moran is his favourite sight - beauty and grace, wrapped in one of his sweatshirts. The smile on her face reaches her eyes, and her fingertips rest over his heart as she burrows closer to him, tangling their legs together.

“I love you…”

“I love you…”

It’s surely an intuition, something about their bond that nobody can explain, but the words spoken between them are simultaneous, and the small smile on Ed’s face is as wide as the one on hers, filled with love.

Nowhere has she ever felt as safe as she feels when she’s by Ed’s side, and lying here is heavenly.