Archive of Our Own

Tuesday, according to Edward Teach, is the most boring day of the week.

He sits at the bar and sifts through the papers Izzy has handed him. Apart from him, Ivan, and another man sitting at a table in the corner, there is no one else in the bar. There is no point in reading all these contracts and bills, so he skims through them. Sometimes, he even goes over them several times just to look businesslike. What distracts him most are the sunbeams coming through the windows, barely reaching the dance floor, and the silhouettes passing by outside

The bar is always almost empty during the day, except for the few who are either working on their laptops or not working at all and loitering from morning until the evening rush hour. This is good for business, but not for the bored owner, who would find it easier to close the bar and go somewhere to have fun. 

Nothing is stopping Ed from doing just that. The drinks — or rather, the drink — has been served, and the bill has been paid. Ivan is also bored on the other side of the bar and can't take his eyes off his phone. Now is a good opportunity to grab a jacket and head into town before five o'clock rolls around and people start trickling in. However, Izzy returns to the bar and hands him another piece of paper. He says it’s about complaints from the neighboring houses. Again. 

“It's like they don't realize they live next to a bar,” Ed mutters, pretending to read again. “There are always discos, contests, and other entertainment crap here.”

“But if they call the cops a third time, we're fucked,” Izzy says.

Ed gets up and heads to his office. If he listens to Izzy any longer, he'll lose his temper and cause a scene. After all, who is the manager in charge of all the important issues here? It's literally Izzy's job to deal with all the paperwork and dissatisfied neighbors. Ed is a strategic genius. He comes up with the drinks, advertising, entertainment, and everything else that has made "The Kraken" so popular. Right now, he is strategically forced to lock himself in his office so that his own manager doesn't bore him to death. Which is very unfair, because the street is so beautifully lit by the sun today. And it won't be long before he can go out for a smoke break.

Ed lets Izzy into the office after half an hour of meditation, consisting of the mantra “You're the boss, bro. It's necessary. It's important.” The break did him good. Now Izzy is as calm as grass on the sidewalk. Another half hour passes, and the papers are completely sorted out. As for the neighbors' complaints, Ed orders Izzy to pay them compensation out of his own pocket. If he shows himself to be a generous person, they won't want to call the police again.

Ed is not as incompetent with paperwork as Izzy likes to say. It's just that paperwork is boring. He still remembers his brief stint as an accountant, which he took only because the profession sounded respectable. After those few months, he vowed never to do that kind of work again. That's why Ed opened a bar. It's his element; an ocean he can conquer. He's been into pirates and sea monsters since he was a kid, and he hadn't seen a bar like this in town yet. The Kraken was the first. And if not the first, then it was so bright and loud that other establishments couldn't compare.

Being the boss is interesting in its own way, as Ed discovered, but he wants to have as little to do with paperwork as possible. There are responsibilities that interest him much more: inventing new cocktails, looking for new interior decorations with his old friend Fang, or choosing a playlist for the evening with Ivan. Even training the new girl, Archie, is much more interesting. Although she is clumsy as a waitress, she knows the drinks, learns quickly, and is quick-witted. On the one hand, this keeps Ed as far away as possible from Izzy and his lectures on how to run a business. On the other hand, Ed is amused by the sight of Izzy puffing and writhing with anger. After all, he's not the boss here and has to obey his boss.

Business is done, and Izzy leaves, most likely to pick up Ivan. Ed takes out his phone and checks his notifications. No new messages, no missed calls. Especially from the one he's really waiting for.

Last Thursday was supposed to be another boring day, but the bar was unusually crowded in the evening. Ed had to stand behind the bar himself because Fang and Ivan couldn't keep up with the orders. And this was in the middle of the week! Most likely, the “Buy two cocktails, get a third one free” promotion worked. After all, generosity attracts more attention than a threatening look, take that, Izzy! What made that evening even more unusual was a neatly dressed handsome stranger with golden curls.

A slightly strange but charming man with an unusual name, Stede.

Ed never considered himself a sentimental person, but something awakened in him that evening. That feeling when you see someone and realize — this is the one you've been looking for, even when you're not trying. Love at first sight, if you want to call it something.

Stede looked so lost when he walked into the bar. Ed couldn't help but notice him right away. He looked so lonely, so scared. Like an animal that had finally been released from its cage. Ed's first instinct was to jump over the bar and give him a tour to help him find a suitable spot. Preferably near the bar, so Ed could continue to watch him. 

However, Stede found him himself. Ed saw his hazel eyes, the dimples on his cheeks from his excited smile, and was completely enchanted. A couple was sitting nearby, who had left their martinis and were kissing passionately. Ed had nothing against that, but not right in front of him and the other customers. There were restrooms or a doorway around the corner for that. And then Stede pointed in their direction and asked for the same thing. Ed, mesmerized and surprised, unable to come up with any logical scenarios for how events might unfold, could think of nothing better than to do the same thing — kiss him.

Of course, it turned out to be a misunderstanding. It was crazy of him to pounce on a customer like that, surrounded by his employees and a whole crowd of visitors. And what about Ed? Ed was overwhelmed with euphoria. Suddenly, instead of dance jazz, a piano was playing, gentle and slow, and the night sky lit up with fiery fireworks. Nothing really happened, but Ed saw it anyway.

It wasn't even a kiss. Just a touch of the lips, somewhat chaste, as far as his experience went. Such kisses were only a prelude to further fun, whether behind the office door or in Ed's apartment bed. But if this sudden kiss was a prelude, then it was to the heat in his cheeks, sweaty fingers, and such a frantic heartbeat that it drowned out even the imaginary piano in his head.

Stede's lips were thin and easy to grab. They were soft from balm and cold, which only made Ed want to press closer, warm them, shower them with heat. His cologne smelled like flowers. Ed had never met a man with such a scent—masculine, yet gentle. Soft.

Despite the misunderstanding, Stede remained friendly, because who in their right mind would say that nothing terrible had happened? Ed had had problems with the law in the past, and with someone else he would have had a chance to get his first case for harassment. But Stede was different. Kind. Who else would say so confidently and at the same time shyly:

“It's okay.”

“I liked it.”

Maybe Stede was someone outside the norm. A weirdo. But that only made him even more attractive in Ed's eyes. 

Since that evening, he has been dreaming only of that golden curly hair, those eyes in which the hazel color turns to gold, and those lips. Thin, soft, cold.

To hold on to them. To drown in them. To warm them.

Ed is torn from his memories by a new notification on his phone. New employee Archie has caught a cold and wants to ask for time off. 

Another time, Ed would definitely have called back and asked how serious her cold was, and if she wasn't leaking fluids, she'd be better off working her shift. The woman is still on probation, after all. Izzy would definitely do that. Ed isn't always demanding and strict; he knows how to cut people some slack if they deserve it. And Archie is still wiping glasses haphazardly and holding the tray uncertainly in her hands. She still has a lot to learn if she wants to work officially.

Ed writes that Archie has to work tomorrow instead. She sends him a bunch of happy emojis along with her reply. Ed is unusually charmed by Archie's enthusiasm. The abundance of yellow in her messages reminds him of Stede’s golden curls.

There is a downside to this unexpected attraction. When Ed tries not to think about Stede, something always reminds him of him. Even little things he wouldn't normally pay attention to. This should annoy him, considering how all his previous relationships had turned out, but Ed didn't shy away from new feelings. On the contrary, every reminder of Stede — be it an orange, the color yellow, or the scent of flowers — made time stand still.

Ed was careless enough to share this with Izzy. Izzy, in his usual manner, dragged Stede down into the gutter. And Ed along with him.

“That's your fascination,” Izzy said, as if spitting on the ground. “It will pass quickly. You are always drawn to something unusual.”

This is true, of course, but that's just Ed's nature. New things arouse curiosity, new people inspire. And Stede managed to combine everything in himself.

Perhaps if Ed had taken Stede into the doorway around the corner, pinned him against the wall, and shown him how he really knew how to kiss, Ed wouldn’t be drowning in this whirlpool of feelings now. Perhaps Stede would have shed his gentlemanly facade and allowed him to go further, where they could both surrender to all-consuming heat and passion. Or perhaps it would have been Stede who pinned Ed against the wall. He would have searched for his neck beneath his beard, so he could press his lips against it. Asking permission to undress him to see if Ed had any more tattoos, and he would gladly show them to him. 

Despite his nervous and shy appearance, there was a spark of madness in those hazel eyes. It was barely noticeable, but it was definitely there. Because no normal person could respond to a sudden kiss from a stranger with the words, “I liked it.” Only a madman. That's just the kind of person Ed likes. 

Ed could dream about Stede until the end of his shift, and after it, and the next morning, but the reality is that he has his own life, a lot of things to do, and a whole business to run. Moreover, he doesn't need to give Izzy any more reasons to be angry; his soul also needs pity. When the bar empties, he goes outside and lights a cigarette. The sun is really nice and warm today.

“I hope he's warm too,” Ed thinks as he takes a drag on his cigarette.

Judging by his character and attitude, Stede was hardly experienced in terms of relationships between men. Ed could recognize a closeted person as soon as he saw them. And yet he is sure that Stede is one of those whose passion ignites enthusiasm. Maybe if they had had a few more seconds, that kiss would have lost all its innocence.

Ed sighs. He's getting carried away again. He finishes his cigarette and returns to the bar, sends Ivan to lunch, and stands behind the counter himself. He just has to get through this day, and then he'll have the whole night to dream.

Did Stede feel the same way about him? Does he feel the warmth and tenderness of last Thursday on his lips? Questions swirl in Ed's head as he polishes glasses. Still, if Stede had let him kiss him longer, he would have discovered many new things. And so would Ed.

After lunch, there are more visitors, and with them, more work for Ed and the rest of the staff. Work draws Ed in, and at some point, he stops checking his phone. But thoughts of Stede continue to fly around in his brain.

Tuesday is over. The bar should have closed an hour ago. Some guys order more beer and romantic songs from the 80s. Ivan dances sleepily behind the bar. Izzy stares at Ed, tapping her fingers on the table. "The Kraken" has never had a “last customer” rule. But the guys have ordered a song that he himself wants to hear.  Ed imagines Stede dancing with him under the purple spotlight. The blond's arms wrap around his neck while Ed holds onto his waist like a lifeline.

Izzy can't take it anymore and kicks the guys out. He leaves Ed to clean up and close the bar, almost running to the exit himself. Ed sends Ivan home — though he might have wanted to stay, he’s already half-asleep on his feet. Ed cleans up the bar, closes it, and goes home. On the way, the night sky gradually turns pink and lilac. At home, he sleeps for only three hours, and still, Stede appears in his dreams

***

Wednesday turns out to be unusually busy.

Ed shows up late to the bar, running on too little sleep and too much caffeine. He looks terrible, and Archie doesn’t hesitate to tell him so. One glance in the mirror confirms it: the bruised shadows under his eyes stand out even more, his curls are sticking out in every possible direction, and his gaze has the dull hunger of a zombie who’s been wandering the earth for a hundred years.

Izzy, though clearly displeased, still smirks when he sees him. His whole face practically screams:

“Serves you right.” 

Ed has no regrets.

Sure, he’s never missed a shift before, but he’s also never dragged himself home from work so late. Besides, the dream had been worth it. In it, Stede had returned to the bar, kissed Ed first, and asked where they could be alone. Ed had nearly broken his phone in the morning trying to see if the dream would continue.

The day itself passes quietly — if you ignore the flood of people. Ed hasn’t checked the calendar, so he has no idea if it’s a holiday or if half the city got off work early. Whatever the reason, the bar is full. Still, he keeps hoping with all his heart that Stede will appear, even though he hasn’t texted since that night. Maybe Stede is buried in work too, maybe he’s just more responsible than Ed. Maybe he’s waiting for the right moment to meet face to face.

It’s a comforting thought. And it helps that such a day seems to be coming soon.

***

It's been a week since Ed met and kissed Stede. And his hopes are especially high, and his expectations are higher than the Empire State Building itself.

Today, Ed is behind the bar, just like a week ago, this time paired with Fang. They always work well together. No offense to Ivan, but their compatibility is better and higher, even outside of work.

There are fewer people than last Thursday, so Ed has no doubt that he will be able to spot the golden curly head in the crowd. He wonders what colors Stede will wear this time. Last time, he was wearing a turquoise jumper that made his hair really shine. Will it be deep blue? Or red? Stede would look stunning in red, to the point of unconsciousness. Then Ed would have a reason to be in his arms, to mention the sofa he’d just bought for his office, and...

Fang suddenly cries out, pulling Ed out of his familiar fantasies. Which is a little annoying. He loves Fang like a brother, but fantasies about Stede help him get through busy and boring days. Consider it part of his routine! Besides, thinking about good things helps combat stress or something like that. And what could be better than thinking about Stede?

A young man with chestnut hair, surprisingly large sideburns, and chubby cheeks, sits down at the bar. The bald man accompanying him kisses his cheek and turns back to the crowd to disappear into it.

“Lucius!” Fang almost climbs onto the counter to hug this weirdo. “I didn't expect to see you here today.”

Lucius leans his elbow on the bar, almost lying down, and smiles. Ed notices that not only his face, but also his smile is somewhat fox-like.

“They let us go home early today,” says Lucius, looking Fang over from head to toe.

Like Ed, Fang usually dresses in leather and black, but today he is wearing a yellow turtleneck under his vest. Ed has also added a little color to his look by wearing a purple T-shirt under his jacket. Who cares that it’s not summer anymore? It’s bright and stylish. And a lover of bright colors like Stede will definitely like it.

It only now dawns on Ed that he and Fang have dressed up to meet special people. Only Fang's person, a guy or whatever his status is, has arrived, while Ed is still only a fixture in his thoughts and dreams.

“I don't see anyone else, are you just with Pete?” Fang asks.

“Pete, me, Frenchie, and John,” Lucius points to a table in the corner.

Ed looks at the group: a tall man with dark curls, a large blond man, and the bald man who accompanied Lucius. Then he glances around the bar. No gold, no turquoise or red, or anything bright.

“We missed the party last week, but this Saturday we'll all be there,” says Lucius.

“We'll be waiting,” laughs Fang and turns to Ed, who already feels like a third wheel. “These guys are real party animals, especially when it comes to extreme games.”

“Then they'll definitely like this Saturday's program,” Ed grumbles, keeping his eyes on the door.

Fang quickly makes a cocktail for Lucius and places it in front of him. Lucius puts a few bills on the counter and blows him a kiss.

“So, what made your boss let you leave early?” Fang asks. “A sudden bout of kindness and generosity?”

He has the audacity to glance at Ed. Ed is actually a good boss. They are all very lucky to have him. Yes, he has flashes of irritation or anger, but only when he's been pushed to his boiling point. At least Ed isn't Izzy, who's just waiting for a reason to get angry, and not in a good way. And, as luck would have it, Izzy asked for the day off, so with Ed running the shift, and letting his staff get a little too familiar sometimes, he ends up taking all the heat.

“If you knew our boss, you wouldn't doubt his desire to be kind and generous,” says Lucius. “But unfortunately, he's sick. The office has been empty without him for three days now, and it's so quiet that it's unusual.”

“Does he yell a lot?” Fang again glances at Ed.

Maybe he really forgot that Izzy is off today and is looking for him. Ed has more important things to do. He hasn't looked at the door for several minutes.

“He talks a lot,” Lucius continues. “The boss is a sweetheart in that regard, but he can be annoying with his long speeches. And this silence is eerie. And today there's nothing to do, so Stede called and...”

“What?!”

Ed may be nearby, but he instantly jumps up, somewhat hastily, pushes Fang a little away, and stands in front of Lucius. He probably looks crazy from the side, but who cares. A week of expectations and dreams must pay off.

“What did you say your boss's name was?” Ed asks, staring intently at Lucius.

“Stede,” he replies awkwardly and confusedly. “Yes, it's a very strange and rare name, but don't make such a fuss...”

“Wait, Lucius,” Fang interrupts. “Do you know him, Ed?”

Does Ed know him? In his mind, he had already gone through the phase of three or four dates. Does Ed know Stede? Very funny! Any minute now and he’ll start hearing church bells in his head. Which he always hated!

“He came last Thursday and ordered an orange martini.”

“Is that the same customer?” Fang asks with a smile on his round face.

“What do you mean, the same customer?” Lucius interrupts.

“If Stede hasn't told you anything, then I won't either,” Fang says, folding his arms demonstratively across his chest.

“It's not fair to get my attention and then not give me any useful information,” Lucius puffs out his cheeks.

“Didn't Stede tell you about his trip to the bar?” Ed asks, trying to look calm, although it's a little too late for that.

“He did, but not about how he hit on the cute bartender,” Lucius's sly smile returns.

“No one hit on anyone!”

Perhaps Ed looks completely childish as he denies his attraction. Maybe he's fuming because this person who knows Stede is here right now, and Stede still hasn't written to him! So yes, no one hit on anyone! Because Stede accidentally kissed him, and Ed went and fell head over heels at first sight, like the heroine of some ridiculous rom-com!

“We still have a lot of people, we have to work!” he says irritably to Fang, and then turns to Lucius: “And you, don't distract him!”

“I came for drinks,” Lucius spreads his arms.

“What can I do to get you to go to your friends faster?”

“An orange martini.”

Ed wants to kill this guy, and he won't even know why. Neither the crowd around him nor the fact that Fang is obviously attached to him would stop him. He could be a valuable employee for Stede. And he's so nice that he'll definitely get upset if he kills his worker. And Ed doesn't want to see Stede upset.

“One,” Lucius repeats the order. “Actually, no, two, Pete might want one too. And also one mojito, and rum and Coke.”

Ed personally takes care of his order, hands it over, and sends it to the table. And no, the waitress can't help Lucius because she's busy. Lucius still manages to wink at Fang before returning to his company. Fang catches Ed's irritated glance and shrugs with a smile. Fifteen minutes later, when the bar calms down, Ed allows Fang to approach Lucius and his company. He has to show who the real boss is here.

When Lucius and his friends leave the bar, Ed remembers how Lucius mentioned that Stede was sick. The opportunity to get Stede's contact information and be the first to write to him is lost until some future day. Fang doesn't ask why Ed slipped into the doorway and banged his head against the wall, and Ed is grateful to him for that.

Thursday is coming to an end. Ed returns home disappointed. Stede doesn't even visit him in his dreams.

***

Friday passes even faster than the days before it.

The bar closes at two o'clock according to the schedule, but Ed kicks everyone out at one. He sends all the staff home, Izzy first. He remains alone in the middle of the empty bar, bathed in red light. He walks between tables cluttered with bottles and glasses. He returns to the bar, pours himself a whiskey, and drinks it in one gulp.

For the thousandth time, he stares at his phone. Still no notifications. He asked Fang today if Lucius had told him anything. He didn't have time to talk to him much, but Lucius was busy today, so most likely Stede had gone back to work.

Ed pours himself another whiskey. He drinks. He forces himself not to cry.

This isn't the first time Ed has been so fascinated by someone. Extraordinary people have always been like a magnet to him, and from time to time, Ed's fascination has been not only platonic or sexual, but also romantic. Things ended differently, and each time it was sad. Especially when it seemed that here was a person who understood him without words. But Ed always lifted his chin and moved on — new people, new passions, new disappointments. Damn them all.

Stede's silence, his unreachability, is tearing Ed apart from the inside.

He slams his glass down on the bar.

“It shouldn't be like this!” he shouts into the void. “You can't get so carried away with someone after just one meeting!”

But when had Ed ever met anyone like Stede? All those bright and extraordinary personalities who had captured his attention turned out to be not so unique. And they all wanted something from Ed: either his money or his talent in bed. Stede was one of a kind.

His existence raised more questions than answers. Anyone else would have taken advantage of the situation and continued to seduce Ed until he finally gave in. Stede was like a gentleman who had accidentally found himself in the modern world. Maybe such people exist, but Ed had never met them. And that also fueled his desire to see him again.

It didn't help that Stede was handsome, his thin lips soft, and even a week later, in a place drowned in alcohol and smoke, the echo of floral cologne still lingers.

“It's just one meeting,” Ed tells himself as he steps outside. “Just a random client.”

"The Kraken" sign is the only light left in the middle of the night. Even the stars are invisible in the clear sky.

“Just a kiss,” Ed says. “A random coincidence.”

He goes home, falls onto his unmade bed, and keeps his promise not to cry over something stupid. Or over a fool. And this isn’t about Stede. It can’t be. You can't be mad at someone who didn't do anything.

***

By Saturday evening, the crowd hasn’t let up once.

Fang, Ivan, and Archie fall into a rare, easy rhythm behind the bar. For Archie, it’s the first truly busy shift. She’s never seen the place in such chaos. Ed helps her while keeping the bar itself running. Izzy stands guard at the register, scowling and watching everything.

As promised, Lucius shows up with friends. If Ed thought their usual crowd was eccentric, this group looks even more outlandish. He warns Fang not to step away from the bar at all today, except for the bathroom. Luckily, Lucius only comes by once or twice and never lingers. At least he understands that no one has time for flirting tonight.

But Stede is nowhere among them. Ed remembers they were supposed to arrive as a whole team. Either Stede is still sick, or something else has happened. The thought gnaws at him while his colleagues and workers relax between orders. Ed is tempted to pull Lucius off the dance floor and ask directly, but if the flood of customers doesn’t stop him, Izzy does. He has a habit of reporting every tiny detail.

Ed, like everyone else, is tired, but he keeps himself steady, even when Izzy’s rants dissolve into nothing but curses. On his one and only smoke break, he repeats a new mantra:

"Tomorrow will be slower. Tomorrow will be calmer."

The thought that Stede would be proud of him steadies his hands, gives him just enough energy to push through.

Saturday ends with a full cash register and pockets stuffed with tips. The whole staff cleans up together and goes home. This time, Ed stays overnight at the bar. The sofa comes in handy after all. In the dark, the red leather softens into a muted lilac glow, as if the whole place has finally exhaled. Ed falls asleep ready to meet the dream Stede.

***

Sunday is indeed calmer, so everyone has time to relax and unwind between clients.

Ed hasn't left his office for three hours. He spent the first hour studying documents, but only for the first twenty minutes; the rest of the time, he just stared at them. He spent the second hour rearranging things, sorting through all sorts of items he had collected over the years. As the third hour passes, Ed just lies on the couch.

The gloomy weather doesn't make him want to go out for a smoke. He feels more like sleeping. If there are no customers, why not take a nap? If anyone needs anything, Ed will be woken up by a knock on the door.

He closes his eyes and imagines sunbeams running and dancing across the office ceiling. Then they descend to the floor and turn into Stede. He glows like a lighthouse in the middle of an ocean darkened by a storm. His light doesn't blind, but rather draws you in. Stede reaches out his hand, Ed reaches back, and...

There's a knock at the door.

Ed jumps up.

“What is it?” he almost growls.

“Boss,” Izzy's hoarse voice says. “There's a problem.”

Ed sinks back onto the couch.

“Come in.”

Izzy enters, his neutral expression darkening to match the gloomy weather outside the window.

“It's a work day, Edward,” he says.

Ed rolls his eyes.

“Are we in a hurry? The bar is packed with customers, and you can't handle it?”

“No,” Izzy replies grimly.

“Then I don't understand what you want from me,” Ed mutters, covering his eyes with his hand.

“First of all,” Izzy's voice sounds strained as he tries not to lose his temper, “you need to review the price calculations. Ivan also said you have some kind of program next week. In general, there are issues that need to be discussed.”

Ed should have taken the day off. Pretended to be sick, or gone to the park, fallen into the pond there, and deliberately caught a cold.

“Can we have all this talk tomorrow?” he asks Izzy. “Let's not make this day more stressful than it already is, okay?”

Izzy sighs, clutching the folder in his hands with great force.

“Do you want to waste the whole workday?”

“Why not?” Ed asks sincerely.

“I know what makes you mopy.”

Ed instantly becomes more serious, gets up from the couch, and folds his arms in front of him. Izzy had better be careful with his next words.

“And what is it?”

“You're still thinking about that fop,” Izzy declares.

It cannot be said that Ed hid his admiration for Stede. The whole team already knew about it, and Izzy had seen the beginnings of this feeling. And he did have a certain insight. However, Ed hoped that Izzy would not pay attention to it because of work, or would write it off as one of his “phases,” as he called them.

“So what?” Ed asks again.

“So what!” Izzy exclaims. "You have a business, people who depend on you. And you're acting like a namby-pamby who pines for his boyfriend."

It's not so easy to forget about business and people. In fact, it's impossible. And the fact that Izzy thinks this way offends Ed. But what hurts him most is how his manager talks about Stede, a person who has done nothing to him personally. Who entered their gloomy, neon-filled world with his gold and turquoise and smiled at Ed as if his face were the moon in the sky.

Ed is not one to easily stand up for people. Each of his friends and acquaintances is quite capable of standing up for themselves, and only extreme cases require his intervention. Feeling the desire to stand up for Stede, he feels like a damned knight, offended by how people talk about his lady love. Unusually noble for him. It's a pity that Stede won't find out about it.

“Say what you want,” Ed says, piercing Izzy with his gaze. “But don't drag him like this.”

“Because of him, you've been sour for days!” Izzy blurts out in response.

“Not for days!” It was supposed to stay in his head, but Ed doesn't stop. “And you don't even know him!”

“And you know him very fucking well, don't you?!”

And here's the moment Ed hates the most — when damn Izzy turns out to be right. All he knows about Stede is that he's cute, handsome, weird, and sometimes needs reading glasses. Isn't that enough to know a person? Realistically, yes, but it's enough to fall in love with him.

The thought hits him like a hammer to the head. Is it really not just attraction? Is he really in love?

“Ed,” Izzy is still here, by the way. “It may not be obvious to you, but I care about you. It would be better for you to forget about him.”

Ed gives him a prepared answer:

“Easy to say.”

From the look on Izzy's face and his posture, it's clear that he's defeated. Or so it seems. Izzy says nothing more and leaves Ed alone in the office.

Ed lies down on the couch again and closes his eyes. It starts to rain outside the window. Never before has he wanted Sunday to end so quickly.

***

On Monday, as Izzy said, they go over all the business stuff: agree on new prices, discuss staff expansion, and plan the week's schedule. Ed wants to organize a karaoke night. The idea isn’t new, but for "The Kraken," which has seemed gloomier lately, it’s a great opportunity to lighten the mood. Fang and Archie are thrilled, Ivan takes it upon himself to prepare the music, and Izzy silently goes along with the decision.

The day flows by as usual, turning into evening and then night.

When Ed closes the bar, the full moon is shining in the sky. It is large and bright, illuminating the street around it almost like daytime.

On the way home, Ed imagines a date with Stede under this moon. He imagines walking him to the door, taking his hand, and kissing him on the cheek. And if he's lucky, on the lips. Stede says something warm, and then Ed will definitely kiss him again.

Perhaps it’s silly to still dream about someone who has never shown interest. Maybe Stede has already forgotten him, found another bar, and there—another bartender, hotter and kinder, who will surely charm Stede at first sight. Wouldn't it be easier just to forget?

Good question, Ed thinks, but the answer is obvious: easier. Only it’s not easy to actually do. He can no longer imagine his days without thoughts of Stede, and it would be very sad if those thoughts disappeared too.

So why not dream? No one can take Ed's imaginary Stede away from him. He belongs only to Ed. It sounds strange and a little unhealthy, but only strange things have been happening to Ed lately. It's time to get used to it. Everyone else has already gotten used to it.

At home, Ed falls asleep without taking his eyes off the moon.

***

Another Tuesday, another boring day.

Ed waits for the evening, and when it arrives, he waits for the end of his shift. It seems like the days are just dragging on, when they should be getting shorter. People come and go. Izzy grumbles, then lashes out at everyone in turn. Nothing new. The lights above the bar and dance floor shift from blue to red and back again, leaving almost no trace of purple. The familiar brightness makes his eyes squint and his head spin slightly.

Today, the moon is hidden somewhere behind the clouds.

Ed, standing behind the bar with his back to the crowd, is either wiping something down or checking if any drinks have run out. He knows he'll have to turn to face the crowd when Ivan goes for a smoke break, but right now, Ed wants to hide, at least for a little while. Even if it’s in such an obvious way.

He doesn't want to see the darkness outside the window, the neon colors that hurt his eyes, and the door through which anyone can walk in. Ed squints at the shadow of the sign above the bar. "The Kraken's" tentacles stick out slightly beyond the frame—that was the intention. Ed had never thought about how threatening they looked, especially when the light turned red.

“Hello,” comes an uncertain but clear voice.

Ed freezes. He squints and rubs his eyes, just to make sure he hasn’t fallen asleep at work. No, he's still staring at the bottles, completely sober. Not sleepy, not tired. Because there's no reason to hear that voice right now.

He doesn't wait another second, turns around and sees him. Golden curls. Hazel eyes, now behind glasses with matching golden frames. A blue suit that shifts to purple in the red light. A yellow tie that defies the neon. A friendly, warm smile, dimples showing on his cheeks. The same one Ed has seen many times in his dreams.

Stede is here.

Stede is here! In all his strange beauty!

Ed used to think a strong heartbeat was a bit of an exaggeration, but he can hear his own pounding now. As if it had been asleep all this time and now woke up and is ready to spread its wings. Or tentacles. Ed hears it louder than the music, louder than Ivan shouting someone's order.

Yes, his heart has tentacles, because it's bursting out of his chest and straight toward Stede. But first, Ed has to speak.

“You're back,” he says, and maybe his voice, full of hope and relief, sounds pathetic, but Ed doesn't care.

Stede is here! The real one. Just as handsome as ever.

“Yes,” Stede clears his throat. “I wanted to come earlier, on Thursday, like last time, but I wasn't feeling very well.”

“I know,” Ed exclaims, causing Stede to look embarrassed, so he hastens to explain, “Your colleague Lucius was here, and he mentioned that you were sick.”

“A very bad cold,” Stede explains. "I went to work on Friday and realized I wasn't fully recovered. They, my team, as I call them, came to walk last Saturday, and I was just recovering.

So he was still sick last weekend, Ed concludes. He immediately pictures Stede wrapped in some kind of colorful fluffy robe, lying on the sofa under an even fluffier blanket. Surrounded by warmth and softness, he still suffers from a nagging cold, lonely and sad.

Ed doesn't like such fantasies.

“How are you feeling now?” he asks, restraining himself from grabbing Stede's hand.

“Much better,” he smiles. “Thanks for asking.”

Ed is glad, genuinely glad to hear that, and he hopes his own smile conveys that to Stede.

Still, there is a question he cannot ask. One that has been tormenting him all week. It's not something you can just ask outright, because Stede has been sick and hasn't been up to it. But if he doesn't ask, Ed won't be able to rest.

“Why didn't you text?”

Stede either doesn't hear him the first time or doesn't understand what he's being asked.

“Excuse me?”

Ed takes a breath and exhales. Talking directly to the object of his affection is not easy in itself, especially when trying to figure out why they are only communicating now. He needs to know why Stede didn't even try to send a single message. A single word or emoji.

“I gave you my number,” Ed says, looking down and then looking up again. “And I was waiting for a text from you, to be honest.”

“Really?” Stede asks, clearly surprised.

Ed can't figure out which of them has the worse memory.

“It was written in pen on the receipt.”

“Oh my God!” Stede slaps his cheek, and Ed wants to caress it. “Ed, I have something to confess to you.”

Here we go, Ed thinks. The same old song about how they're too different, too incompatible, and basically he's not good enough for Stede. He may not say it, but Ed already has experience reading between the lines. Or now it will turn out that Stede has already met someone else, before he caught a cold. Or he's actually married, and all this emotional stuff is off limits for him. Or he'll come up with something new for Ed, something he'll write down in his notebook of rejection phrases. He doesn't have one, but if he did—

“I didn't keep the receipt,” Stede says guiltily. "I usually keep them so I can calculate all my expenses. It's not that I'm penny-pinching, but I still like to be in control of all my household affairs. But that's not the point! I recently spilled coffee on all my papers, including some important documents, which added a nervous breakdown to my cold, because while I was away, an important client left us. And maybe that's why I was sick over the weekend, because of the stress. And I remembered the receipt with your number after I had already thrown everything away.

Ed listens to this speech and feels something new again. How much his heart aches knowing that this strange man has had such an unlucky week. While Ed suffered in silent torment, Stede was simultaneously battling illness and work issues. And, as it seems to him, no one cares about him. Neither a wife nor a husband, nor a partner. No one who would stay with him longer than a standard work shift.

"I'm sorry, Ed" Stede says, tracing a finger along the counter. "I'm really sorry."

Something heavy lifts from Ed’s chest, from his head and shoulders, yet relief doesn’t come. His heart pounded, his chest tightened, and his hands involuntarily clenched into fists. Stede’s guilty expression tore him apart. Ed was known for his impulsiveness, but if it were up to him, he would have already jumped over the bar, hugged Stede, run his hands through his hair, and tried to talk him out of his foolish feelings.

But he had no right. In all that week of silence, Ed had never blamed him for anything. So why should Stede?

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?” Ed reaches across the counter and slaps Stede on the shoulder. “You’ve had a rough week; it happens to anyone. You’re not at fault for anything, Stede.”

“But you were waiting for my message.”

Why did Ed mention that? To make Stede feel even more guilty? Who made him say that?

“Because I was worried,” Ed hurries to explain, “that I scared you with what happened last time. As nice as it was, I never want to pressure you.”

Stede’s cheeks flush before his eyes, and it’s not because of the lights above them.

“Nice?” he asks with a smile, gently touching the frame of his glasses.

Still, Ed has to be honest, because the man in front of him doesn't realize his influence. His attractiveness, which caused such a gravitational pull that not only did it draw Ed in, but he would gladly dive in himself.

“This may sound very unexpected, but I'll be honest,” Ed now dares to reach out and place his hand on top of Stede's. "I like you, Stede. I kissed you by accident, yes, but then I talked to you for about half an hour, and after that, all I could think about was wanting you to stay longer. So we could talk some more. And I've been dreaming about it all week.

Stede seems embarrassed in front of him, but gradually his posture straightens and his eyes sparkle with the same light that Ed saw back then. He blossoms right before his eyes and becomes even more beautiful.

“That's very nice to hear,” Stede replies.

“That I like you?” Ed laughs, as if ironically, but not quite.

"That you wanted to talk to me. Believe me, if you had talked to me for an hour or two, you would have gotten tired of my company.

“Sorry, mate, but I don't believe you,” and then an idea occurs to Ed. “We'll have to test that out. When are you free in the evening?”

Stede blinks several times before asking,

“Ed, do you really want to spend time with me?”

“Of course!” Ed exclaims, because it takes so long for such an attractive and vibrant man to get it. “Ask anyone here, I never do anything I don't like. Just don't ask Izzy.”

He cheers up at the sight of Stede's grimace at the mention of his manager.

“Since we're being honest,” Stede gets up and approaches Ed. “I also want to continue talking to you.”

Inside, Ed is screaming. Awesome! Super! Fucking awesome! All the exclamations he knows are bursting to get out. In reality, he just squeezes Stede's hand, warmed by his skin, a little tighter, and now they're smiling at each other like some kind of idiotic lovers.

But wait, Ed stops himself. Stede just said he's interested in talking to him. That doesn't mean they're going on a date. Just talking, which will make it clear whether they should continue seeing each other, whether they should hope for more. After all, he's known Stede for almost an hour, and he may not be a weirdo, but a jerk.

No, that's nonsense. But it's not just about Ed, so he says:

“It doesn't have to be a date. I know we've technically kissed, but I agree not to rush things. I want to get to know you better.”

Now Stede's shoulders hunch as if he wants to hide. Could Ed's assumption be wrong?

“When I start telling you my life story, you'll see that there's nothing special about me,” says Stede.

So it's not him, it's his low opinion of himself. And this is despite the fact that there are people who are more boring and, needless to say, less attractive than Stede, and they present themselves as if they were Hollywood celebrities. Ed himself sometimes vacillates between slightly inflated and low self-esteem, so he is familiar with feelings of shame. And this only makes him want to help him get rid of them even more.

“Then I'll tell you my boring stories,” Ed says, letting his finger caress the skin on Stede's palm. Soothingly, not seductively. “And we'll compete to see whose stories are the most boring. The loser will treat.”

Stede shouts, “Deal!” and they move from a gentle handhold to a handshake.

“Could this be... a friendly date?” Stede asks hopefully, mirroring Ed's hope. “For starters?”

"Yes, friends! We can start as friends. I don't have many friends, so I'm all for it.

Another novelty for Ed. Before, everything was clear to him: some people were for friendship, others for sex, and others, if he was lucky, for romance. The pattern was established almost immediately and continued in the same direction until someone rejected the other. But the agreement with Stede to start with friendship, but with the promise of more, suddenly gives the feeling that this is not a short fling, not a targeted use or exchange of interests. Something real could grow out of this. And Ed really wants that to happen.

“I only have my colleagues and subordinates,” says Stede. “We get together in pubs or at picnics, but it's still more of a corporate relationship.”

“I agree to be your friend, Stede...”

“Bonnet.”

Ed definitely won't try on that surname with his name today. It's too soon.

“Stede Bonnet,” but how pleasant it is to say that name.

He notices his reflection in Stede's glasses, and he looks so dreamy that at any other moment it would be embarrassing. The main thing is that Stede looks at him in the same way.

“In return, I also agree to be your friend, Edward...” Stede tilts his head, as if hesitating. “You are Edward, right, Ed?”

“Yes,” Edward takes his hands off Stede's to put them on his hips and strike a pose. “Edward Teach, born on a beach night.”

“Really?”

“I'll tell you on our friendly date,” and Ed adds his signature wink to his words.

Stede's gaze falls on the clock, meaning it's time to say goodbye. And Ivan and Fang have clearly been avoiding him all this time so that Ed could talk to Stede, so apart from the free drinks, he'll have to let them go early and close the bar himself. Not a bad price to pay for the opportunity to talk and hold hands with the man of his dreams.

Ed asks Stede for his phone number so he won't lose it. He checks how Stede saves it and tries not to kick the “Edward” inscription. It's literally his name, what's the big deal? Only now there's a martini emoji next to it.

“Text me when you get home,” he says finally.

Stede salutes him, waves his hand with a laugh, and then leaves the bar.

As he planned, he lets Fang and Ivan go early. From one to two, he can take and release orders himself. He also lets Izzy and Archie go, saying that he will clean up and close the bar himself. Archie runs out happily, while Izzy looks at him mysteriously and says nothing. Tomorrow, Ed will still tell everyone the details of his now existing personal life. Everyone has already witnessed it anyway.

On the way home, Ed is almost jumping with joy. The moon peeks out from behind the clouds. It's the best evening of his life.

When he gets into bed under the covers, his phone suddenly lights up.

Unknown caller: Ed, hi! I'm home, so I'm checking in.

Unknown caller: By the way, this is Stede.

Unknown caller: You gave me your number, but you don't know mine, so I had to clarify.

Ed's cheeks ache from smiling. He writes:

Finally.

Then he adds: 

Thanks for writing.

Stede: You're welcome. I was very happy to see you again.

Ed puts his phone on the nightstand and leans back on the pillow. There's no need to wrap himself in the blanket. He's warm enough.