Work Text:
“How are you doing, my love?” Stede asked softly.
Ed hummed noncommittally.
They were walking slowly, hand in hand, away from the house toward the stream that flowed at the back of their property. This was a bad day for Ed. This particular day had been bad for Ed for the last three years.
When they reached the edge of the water, Stede gave Ed’s hand a light squeeze, and released his grasp, “Whenever you’re ready, dear heart. Take as much time as you need.”
Ed looked at the little origami boat cupped gently in his other hand, a twin to the one Stede held, and squatted down at the edge of the stream. Stede followed suit. They released the delicate paper boats together, nudging them into the lazy current of the stream. They stood back up, Stede taking Ed’s hand in his once again, and watched as the delicate little crafts floated along, bobbing among the ripples, sun dappled in the tree-lined brook, a testament to the ephemeral nature of life.
As the miniature ships disappeared around a bend, Ed sighed, dropping his head down to Stede’s shoulder. Stede let go of his hand and wrapped his arms around his love, pulling him close and holding tight. He laid a soft kiss on Ed’s curls as he listened to his quiet sniffles.
“I still miss her so much,” Ed said in a hushed voice from where his head rested against Stede.
“I know, darling. I miss her too. Do you want to talk about her?”
Ed’s mother had passed away in her sleep three years ago, and Ed had been inconsolable. Stede had suggested the paper boats as a way to work through some of their grief. And so, every year on the anniversary of her death, Stede and Ed fashioned small boats out of paper in Ed’s mom’s favorite colors, took them to the little stream, and said goodbye.