It feels wrong for Edward to call what's happening between him and Garrett 'dating', but it's the only word he has. Their dates are sometimes awkward, two men fumbling to make each other happy, and yet that makes them all the more sweet. They walk through parks and streets and life stories, hands entwined. On the days Garrett uses his crutches, Edward slides his finger into a belt loop.
When eyes linger a little too long on Garrett's baggy jeans, Edward stares back until the other person is itching to crawl out of their own skin – and he knows it's still only a tenth of what Garrett must feel every day. When a hostess ignorantly tells them they don't have handicapped tables, they find another restaurant. When some teenage boys jeer and call them names, Edward just holds Garrett's hand tighter, stands closer.
He's still trying to find his way, but for Garrett, he'll always forge ahead. He'll take Garrett's shame and turn it into his own pride. Garrett struggles some days, when the reset bones of his shoulder are aching and he can't quite grip his crutches right; when the demons inside his head are too loud to shut out. On those days, Edward makes sure his own voice talks loudest. On those days, Edward wraps Garrett's arm around his shoulder and holds him up.
On those days, he gives Garrett a little piece of freedom back. Like puzzle pieces, like a patch from a quilt – small, just one aspect of something much bigger. It'll take time for those pieces to come together, to stitch and heal broken places, but eventually it'll work.
Each date ends with a kiss or three, long minutes of holding one another. Their relationship hasn't progressed further than Edward loving Garrett with his mouth that first morning, hasn't come close again even. Each moment of affection between them is freely given but feels somehow stolen; stolen from the universe, as if they're both undeserving.
Edward wonders if some nights, his kisses taste like fear.
Because everything's so precious, so beautiful, he's terrified of it going away. There's a feeling he can't quite shake. His life is like the hours before a storm. Everything's so still, so quiet, but there's an underlying tension.
A twisted anticipation.
And then everything implodes.
He tells himself that he's imagining it. He tells himself that he and Garrett are stable and solid, but it's hard to believe when for years, he's been living on quicksand.
Edward is happier than he can ever remember being before.
Somewhere in the deepest, darkest part of himself, the part that keeps him awake long into the night, he senses that means it's only a matter of time before everything comes crashing down around him.
He just doesn't expect it to happen so soon.