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Ed clutched his knees to his chest and tried his best to breathe.
His stomach felt queasy as he tucked his chin to his knees. His bones threatened to shake right out of his skin, and his lungs weren’t taking in enough air, but he still couldn’t bring himself to unwind from the tight, protective ball he’d made of himself. It was something instinctive, a reaction he never learned how to completely cull, no matter how hard he tried.
He’d been here before. Not often, not since he was much younger, but Ed still hated when this happened with every fibre of his being. He was a pirate, for fuck’s sake. Gunshots and canons and screams didn’t faze him for an instant, but one tiny, shattered plate—
A thunderous voice pounding in his ears, a tight and unrelenting fat hand around his throat, a high-pitched scream from the other side of the door—
“Ed?”
His heart lodged in his throat at the sound of Stede’s voice. Humiliation swam in his gut at the thought of anyone seeing him like this, and part of him wanted to push through the knot in his throat and scream go away, don’t look at me, leave me alone — but every other part of him yearned for Stede. Yearned for his soft touch, his steady voice, the balm of his lips pressed against his skin.
There was a knock at the closet door. Ed opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“I’m coming in, dove, if that’s alright,” Stede’s muffled voice filtered through the other side of the door. When it creaked open, sunlight landed in streams against Ed’s pathetic figure, and Ed shuddered around the robe wrapped around his frame.
“Oh, Ed.” He couldn’t see Stede’s face with the sun in his eyes, but the devastation in his voice was obvious. Ed tried to say something, but he choked on thin air, a ragged sob erupting from deep within his chest.
Stede instantly kneeled in front of him, and the lines of worry on his face were sharp against the shadows. Ed turned his head away, shielding himself without even knowing why, because this was Stede. It wasn’t that Stede wasn’t capable of doing horrible things to Ed — he’d certainly already had — but he’d lever laid a hand on him, not in the way his body was tensing in preparation for.
And besides, it was Stede. Ed trusted him now, he truly did, and this terror felt like a betrayal of the man he loved.
“E ipo,” Stede whispered, “Can I hold your hand?”
Ed hesitated. Then, his hand snaked out from underneath the robe. It continued to shake after Stede took it, but all Stede did was rub his thumb over the palm of his hand, over and over again. The repetitive motion grounded him, and he started to breathe just a little bit easier.
“You’re okay,” Stede reassured with a small smile. “You’re safe.” No comment on how fucking ridiculous Ed was being, how weak he was. Just easy acceptance. A safe place to land.
Edward loved him so much.
After a few minutes, Stede pulled out a handkerchief. “There we go,” he said fondly as he dabbed it against Ed’s cheek.
Ed blinked in surprise. He had no idea he’d been crying.
(He’d learned how to cry quietly when he was very, very young.)
“Would you like anything, e ipo? Some tea? I can help you get back into bed,” Stede offered, like it wasn’t midday.
Ed sniffled, and this time, he noticed how his eyes started to well.
“That would be nice.”
They spent the rest of the day wrapped around each other, the feeling of Stede’s heartbeat against his palm quietly reminding him to breathe. He was safe, now. He was home.