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Stede could taste the stark tang of bittersweetness on his tongue even before he opened the door to his cabin. He stepped cautiously inside, shoes tapping on the wood floor before freezing. There he was. Blackbeard. Edward. Ed. He turned to look at him, his familiar form silhouetted, standing sharp against the light of the window and for a moment Stede couldn’t breathe. He’d donned leather again, Stede noted. Smears of black clouded his face, stark against the whites of his eyes. Even as a piece of Stede’s heart broke, even as his stomach fell hollow with the weight of the agony reflected in Ed’s face, the rest of his heart still sang at the sight of him. Stede willed himself to form words, to explain himself, to say anything, but all he managed to do was stare, wide eyes meeting wide eyes.
Ed, on the other hand, was just fucking bitter. Rage and hurt boiled in his veins, collected in his throat like bile, burning at the flesh of his insides. He felt dizzy, blind with it. He’d drowned his pain in the acid of anger, hoping to burn off the nerve endings at the source. He’d done nothing but drown for days now, suffocating in his thoughts and washing it down with alcohol. He’d tried to mourn, to cry, to fall into comforts and soft fabrics, he really had, but there was no room for softness in Blackbeard, no space for tears and poetry. He'd been a fool to think he deserved otherwise.
Stede had expected anger, of course. He'd planned meticulously for it as he ran the scenario through his head over and over and over. He'd thought about the best words to temper it, the perfect verbs and adjectives to express himself, but, as he just barely managed to dodge a swipe of Ed's blade, Stede realized he’d seriously underestimated just how badly this could backfire.
“Fuck! Ed, please. Please hear me out,” Stede finally fumbled out, carefully planned words thrown to the wayside. His feet scrambled to recover from his hasty dodging, legs feeling as jumbled as his mind.
“Fuck you,” was all Ed grit out in reply, lunging for him again. He closed in on Stede fast, taking advantage of his missteps and throwing him against the wall, knife following his momentum.
This strike hit its mark, Stede shifting to let it dig into his gut on the left, just like Ed had taught him. Stede surged forward at the same time, hands meeting beautiful curls and stubbled cheeks as teeth and lips collided. Ed gasped against him, eyes still wide, eyebrows desperately furrowed, brain giving him nothing but the static of raw emotion. Ed could feel the steel cage around his heart opening against his will, reluctant, wary, and still dripping with acrid misery. The hurt lying dormant under his frenzied rage poured over him like a wave now, drowning him in it as he failed to choke down a sob, tears streaking black down his cheeks. God, he was so stupid.
“I’m sorry. I love you,” Stede breathed, the words falling whisper-quiet between them. He was crying too, Ed noticed.
“You came back,” Ed choked out between sobs.
Stede huffed out a breathy laugh. “Never left.”