Eddie Teach
this is a misc. story!
December 3, 1688 - January 17, 1689
Eddie Teach
No one told Eddie he had to help.
Tommy told Eddie he had enough stress; he was eight years old and already mourning the loss of people who didn't love him. The teachers told Eddie he needed to focus on school. They both told Eddie to calm his freezing nerves and let the adults handle things while he got settled into a new home.
They were better liars than his parents were, but Eddie still saw right through them. He could taste the watered-down milk and stale bread on mornings when Tommy ate nothing and pretended he wasn't hungry. The winter months were worse than usual; or maybe Eddie was paying more attention now that the weather was cold and Eddie had gotten used to calling Tommy's house home.
Eddie used to drift through market days with the detached patience most kids learned when they'd been told too many times that "the adults are speaking." Eddie's mind would wander through fairy tales and bible verses while Tommy sorted out the boring task of haggling prices. Today, he just couldn't detach himself like he used to. Everything in sight, from meat stalls to stacks of half-wilted produce, drew Eddie's gaze like a beacon on the coldest night of the year.
Tommy's too-quick smiles and too-slow steps were the hardest thing to miss. The first thing Eddie noticed was the way Tommy paused just a little too long when they passed the sweets vendor. Eddie noticed his older cousin wasn't even looking at the candy. Tommy just stood there for a moment, pretending to be studying a jar of carrots in the next stall. Meanwhile, the kids with more money than most folk from this side of Salem ate honey-covered nuts and fruits dried with cane sugar.
And chocolate. The sign showed a price that even Eddie didn't want to look at. Tommy soon nudged Eddie along with a "maybe next week", just like he had last week; and the week before that. This time, Eddie heard the hitch in his cousin's breath when they finally turned away. When they went to the fishmonger, Eddie saw the way Tommy set three copper coins on the table, then hesitated, his palm lingering over the fourth like it hurt to give up.
The cousins locked eyes for a moment. Tommy knew that Eddie saw. They didn't buy apples that week, or flour, or eggs, or the cheese Eddie used to sneak tiny pieces of when Tommy wasn't looking. Tommy smiled through it all, made jokes about scurvy and the joys of sea salt soup, but it was hard to laugh when the wounds were so fresh.
Eddie just nodded and played along. That was what he was supposed to do now. This wasn't like when his parents were alive. Here, Eddie's job was to let the adults handle things, smile when they gave him advice he didn't ask for, and stay quiet when they told him not to worry. A kid like him didn't need to carry all that, or so the grown-ups said.
Those words turned sour in his mind whenever Eddie saw Tommy carry everything alone. Tommy's mouth tightened at the sign listing prices in the bakery, barely long enough for Eddie to see. They lingered in those sweet-smelling halls for too long before Tommy put the roll back on the shelf and walked out towards the apothecary with a smile that frayed at the edges. Tommy was always smiling, and always tired.
They were passing by the candy stall on the way back home when Tommy suddenly stopped and turned towards Eddie with a bright spark in his eye. "Christmas," Tommy said, pointing towards the huge slab of chocolate being chopped up by the vendor. "We'll get some chocolate for Christmas."
Eddie lit up. "Promise?"
"Yeah, promise." Tommy grinned. "The big kind that we can make last all winter."
Eddie nodded, clutching the image tight-- then realization turned cold in his chest. Christmas was weeks away, and Tommy had just put back bread to afford soap. Eddie kept his smile wide; because that was what the adults told him to do when someone made a promise like that. By the time they reached the hill, Eddie's smile faded, and the words sat in his heart like a stone.
Tommy was going to keep that promise, Eddie told himself. Even though he knew better.
Eddie woke up from dreams of chocolate and holiday feasts to the grumble of Tommy putting on his leg. The world was pitch black, save for the dim candle light crawling into his room from around a corner. One eye peeked through the crack in Eddie's door, watching as a shadow passed by with the familiar heartbeat rhythm of Tommy's stride.
Tommy was already dressed. If he focused hard enough, Eddie could see the way Tommy's jacket looked like it'd been buttoned up in a hurry, and his limp became more pronounced when he didn't know he was being watched. As Tommy passed the bedroom door, he paused and squinted in the dark. Tommy's eye met Eddie's own through the sliver of candle light in the hall. "Go back to sleep, okay?" Tommy whispered.
Eddie pushed down the thousand questions that would never be answered and shuffled back into the bed.
Tommy waited a beat, then kept moving. A moment later, Eddie heard the front door creak open, then shut with a gentle click. Tommy was gone. Eddie stayed deathly still, breathing shallowly out of habit while the chill in his heart crept into the sheets. The boy listened for the sound of footsteps fading down cobbled roads, and heard nothing but the howl of wind and snow. Eddie tried to do what he was told and go back to sleep, but the dreams didn't come easily.
When Eddie woke up the next morning, the sun was starting to melt the frost on the window. The Teach house smelled like eggs and spice and all the things they were supposed to save for Christmas dinner. Eddie sat up slowly, letting the blanket slide off his shoulder while he tried to figure out what was happening.
Eddie followed the warm scent of the hearth to find Tommy humming something under his breath while flipping eggs on a pan. "Morning, kiddo." Tommy flipped something in the pan and turned his head to face Eddie. "You slept in."
Eddie blinked at his older cousin. Tommy looked tired-- really tired-- but the cheer in his face seemed more real. Tommy's hair stuck up in messy curls in the back, and there was a red mark under his eyepatch like he'd rubbed the spot too hard. "Sorry, Tommy. Didn't mean to," Eddie mumbled. The boy found himself bracing for screamed demands to "just be normal," even though Tommy hadn't screamed once since Eddie arrived.
"No harm done. Come on, sit down." That was it. It was almost surreal for Eddie to make a mistake in the house without hearing words he wasn't allowed to repeat.
Eddie tentatively slid into his usual seat and looked at the table. Breakfast was nicer than usual that day. Rolls of bread sat in a small basket, glistening with fresh butter. A small wedge of cheese and a sliver of smoked fish were placed next to the basket, along with a few slices of those blood oranges they'd passed in the market last week. "Special occasion?" Eddie tried to keep his voice light.
"Do we need one?" Tommy grinned. "You deserve to be spoiled once in a while."
Eddie couldn't make himself respond to that. He'd been a good kid, or at least good enough to earn presents on Christmas. He was calm and polite and did what the adults told him to without a fuss. But had he done anything to deserve this...? Eddie searched his memories for some good deed remarkable enough to --
"You excited for the holidays?" It took a minute for Eddie to register that Tommy was still talking.
"...Yeah." Eddie reached for an orange slice. He remembered walking past the orange cart. Tommy glanced at it for barely a second before setting them in another direction.
"We should do something fun once the schoolmaster's barred out." Tommy pulled apart a roll and handed the bigger half to Eddie. "Maybe we could go see the pageant?"
"Thought you didn't like crowds." Eddie popped the orange slice into his mouth, then the roll. The fruit was sweeter than he'd imagined it would be, and the bread was surprisingly salty.
Tommy shrugged. "I don't. But remember when the angels fell off the scaffolding last year? That kind of drama's worth the price of admission."
Eddie gave a tiny laugh. "You said it was 'a disgrace to the Lord,' Tommy."
Tommy raised a finger. "Disgraceful and entertaining aren't mutually exclusive."
Eddie smiled again, but this time the corners of his mouth didn't stay up for long. He glanced at the breadbasket, still thinking about all the times he saw Tommy count coins at the market stalls and come up short. The things at the table weren't on the list. Still, Eddie kept his head down and nodded at the right moments. If he brought up that Tommy's coat sleeves were still damp from morning frost, or that his hands were nicked in new places...
Eddie forced himself to stop thinking about it. The eggs were good, the oranges were sweet, and Tommy's smile never dropped. Life was better now. All Eddie had to do was calm his freezing nerves and let the adults handle things.
By the time Christmas arrived, Eddie already knew what wasn't coming. The house was covered in sharp ice that seemed to pierce Eddie's soul, but he'd learned by now not to shiver. He just pulled the blanket tighter around himself and went to the living room. Two presents sat neatly on a pillow on the big chair, wrapped in old parchment and twine. Tommy sat right next to them, guarding the warmth of Christmas morning with closeness and smiles even when no one was around to see it.
Eddie reached for the smaller one first. He opened it carefully, the way Tommy liked him to, undoing the knot in the twine and peeling the paper back at the folds. Inside was a carved bird, smoothed and sanded with care. Its tiny wings were etched with colorful pinfeathers, like the little bird was making room to replace what it had lost.
The second, larger gift was a knit cap in faded blue wool. Eddie brushed over the material with his fingers. It was soft and thick and brought a bit of warmth to his freezing hands. And a chuckle, when Eddie saw the patch where Tommy had ran out of blue yarn and had to switch to green.
There was no chocolate.
Eddie knew there wouldn't be. That big breakfast on a random day in the middle of December was Tommy's way of making it easier.
Knowing didn't make that stone in his heart any lighter.
"It's perfect." Eddie sat back and pulled the hat over his ears with a smile. "Thank you, Tommy."
Tommy nodded, with a look that wasn't quite a smile on his face. "I'm glad."
It wasn't the look of a cruel man, nor one who just realized he forgot the promise he'd made. It was the face of a man whose stomach was twisting in knots too tight to be undone by his little cousin's smiles. No matter how many times Eddie said "thank you," the thing that wasn't in that wrapping paper left a gaping hole in Tommy's heart.
No one told Eddie he had to help.
They didn't need to. Eddie knew, by the way Tommy's shoulders curled in a bit tighter as he saw Eddie wearing the hat inside and carrying the carved bird in his pocket like a charm. As much as he and Tommy tried to pretend they hadn't noticed, Eddie knew things weren't okay. While the boy was too young to work miracles, he was too old to sit idly by as they both teetered on a ledge.
They ventured outside, towards the other promise Tommy had made. The chill sharpened even further outside, and Eddie's breath came out in puffs. He tugged his new hat over his ears to keep the cold at bay and the snow out of his hair. The little bird rested safely in Eddie's pocket as he traced the edge of the tailfeathers with his finger.
Eddie walked beside his older cousin, his hands buried deep in his coat. Tommy's every word was paired with animated gestures, trying to pull Eddie's mind towards anything but the stone in his own heart. He talked about the actors who would be performing this year, the way they managed to get a real horse for the performance, or how the woman playing the Virgin Mary always held back tears when the angels appeared on stage.
Eddie smiled where appropriate, laughed when Tommy did, but he wasn't thinking about the pageant this year. He couldn't detach himself when he was needed. So Eddie watched everyone in sight. There was a man yelling too loudly to no one in particular across the square. Eddie tensed when he was the empty bottle clutched in the stranger's hand.
A woman in a worn red cloak cut through the streets with a delivery basket in her hands and a knife hidden in her coat. Eddie watched her long after she passed, noting the shift in weight with each step. He tried to weigh how fast he could run if he had to, and how long he might last before she outran him. If it came to that.
Eddie knew they were getting close when the homes got bigger and the crowd grew denser than the woods that faded away in the distance. Snow covered a sea of heads that towered over Eddie and blocked his view of the theatre house. Eddie held Tommy's hand tighter than before and looked around at the surrounding streets while the crowd shuffled forward.
On the side of a nearby path, a boy not much younger than Eddie built a snowman that reached his own height. The boy gazed upon his work with pride, oblivious to the teenage girl sauntering in with a smirk on her face and a spring in her step. Eddie knew that girl would kick the snowman down long before her foot connected with the boy's work... but he was caught off guard when the other boy started crying, and the girl suddenly apologized and helped him rebuild.
Eddie smiled and faced forward again. As the army of snow-capped heads slowly funneled through a tiny door, the smell of something warm and savory made Eddie's stomach growl. Eddie glanced around, trying to find the source over the heads that loomed in front of him, when his eyes caught a strange red light in an alleyway, nestled behind painted charms and hanging signs. Eddie only saw the light for a second before it was hidden away under the shift of the endless line. That strange red light was still there when Eddie's eyes found the spot again.
Tommy kept a tight grip and warm smile, as if he wasn't bone-tired beneath holiday cheer. The pageant was just beginning its first act when someone in front of Eddie gave a startled yelp. A woman crouched to gather the gold and silver that spilled from her fallen coin purse.
Eddie darted forward before Tommy could even react. "I've got it, ma'am!" he chirped.
The woman looked up, smiling through her veil of curls. "Oh, thank you, sweetheart. How clumsy of me."
Eddie knelt at the woman's side, scooping up the purse and pouring the coins back inside. The boy's fingers pinched a large gold coin that hid from view between his knuckles as he rose. Eddie handed the purse back with a practiced smile.
The woman clutched it gratefully. "A fine young gentleman, you are. Someone's raised you well."
"Thanks." Eddie pushed his cheeks high enough to sting in the winter chill.
She turned away without checking her coin count.
Tommy ruffled Eddie's hair as he returned to his seat, too caught up in the show to say much.
Eddie just smiled and slipped the coin into Tommy's pocket when he wasn't looking.
Christmas dinner was quiet this year. The ill-gotten luxuries from weeks ago had long since dried up, leaving a subdued meal that warmed Eddie's heart all the same.They ate thick bread soaked in broth and boiled vegetables salvaged from the market. Simple, but warm and soft and comforting in a way that made Eddie forget, for a little while, that things weren't okay. Dreams of chocolate and holiday feasts fell away before the glow from the hearth, casting gold onto Tommy 's tired smiles.
Eddie and Tommy cleaned up side by side. Tommy carried dishes between the table and the washbasin while Eddie scrubbed grease and crumbs off the table. The warmth from the hearth still lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of roasted parsnips and burnt flour. The post-meal rhythm Eddie was just starting to get used to felt a little smoother.
Tommy had just finished scrubbing the last dish when he paused mid-step. His hand slipped into his pocket, and his lips pressed into a tight line. "...Huh. Don't remember this being here."
Eddie glanced up from where he was drying the table with an old rag, willing his face to stay neutral. "What is it?"
Tommy pulled out a gold coin. The same one Eddie had slipped in there at the pageant. Familiar gold turned over and over between Tommy 's fingers, like there might be an explanation on the other side. When none emerged, Tommy turned towards Eddie and blinked slowly. His lips twitched towards a smile, but it didn't quite form.
"I'm going downstairs for a bit." Eddie moved to hang the rag by the hearth before Tommy's eyes could find him again.
Tommy nodded. "Don't stay up too late." He was still eyeing the coin like it held the secrets of the time travelers.
"I won't." Eddie slipped into the trapdoor under the table. A few sparse crates met him in the frigid darkness. First, Eddie found a match and struck it. Then he searched for a candle, letting its glow fill the room as Eddie set it down. Then, he descended into the largest crate in the room, digging through piles of junk until he found what he needed: an old, rusted padlock and a pair of twisted pins.
Eddie sat on the cellar floor with the rust-bitten lock cradled in his lap, while the pins danced between his fingers. The world above was quieted by thick floorboards, and the only light in this room came from that little candle at Eddie's side. The whole world melted away, save for the padlock and Eddie's old memories.
Eddie had no real idea what he was doing, but he'd seen it a few times. When errands ran late, Eddie would sometimes notice other kids jamming something sharp into a door latch and giving it a twist until it clicked. Then they 'd come to school with fancy stuff Eddie never saw them with before. Eddie didn't get it then-- he still didn't really get it now. But that wouldn't stop him from trying.
The pins scraped and clicked inside the lock as Eddie worked, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth as his brows furrowed and his fingers ached from the pressure. The lock was stiff and heavy, its edges were jagged from rust, and Eddie nicked his fingers more than once. The candle burned low at his side, flickering dimmer with each click of the tumblers. The pins bent more than they had when Eddie found them, warped nearly beyond use now. Still, he didn't stop.
The moment Eddie heard the front door's sharp and muffled click, his breath hitched. Tommy was leaving again.
Eddie didn't move from the floor. He just pressed a little harder with the pins, until one finally snapped in half. Eddie stared at it for too long, watching the light reflect off of the metal like it was taunting him. He leaned back against the cellar wall, his useless hands on the useless lock in his lap. Eddie was too exhausted to try again, but too wired to sleep, so his mind raced until the candle went out and the world was dark.
Eddie woke up tucked beneath a too-thin blanket in his own bed. Eddie's neck was stiff from hunching over the rusted metal that now lay on his nightstand. The sheets were cold from how long it must have been empty before Tommy carried him up here.
Even when Eddie tried to help, Tommy still carried everything.
Eddie started making his needs quiet again, in the way that smiled and slipped through the cracks. At breakfast, Eddie watched what Tommy put on his plate and always left a little behind, even when Tommy said he wasn't hungry. Never too quickly, never complaining when his stomach growled in the middle of class.
When buttons popped off his clothes or the fabric wore thin, Eddie stopped mentioning it and started fetching the needle and thread on his own. He embroidered patches and sewed buttons with clumsy hands that didn't quite know what they were doing yet. And he always made sure Tommy didn't see until the damage was already repaired.
He started amassing little things to trade at school. Gleaming buttons were swapped for glittering coins. Marbles collected on the street were returned for strips of jerky that would last until Eddie got home. Extra essays and arithmetic worksheets became favors for kids eager to barter money for good marks.
The way Eddie moved, light on his feet, watching every face, speaking only when necessary, resurfaced hazy memories of before Tommy 's house was home. The logic of a time when staying small and unnoticed meant staying safe never truly left Eddie. Now, he needed it more than ever. Until Eddie could help carry the burden of caring for him, he would at least try to make that burden as small as he could manage.
Eddie used every scrap of spare time he had to practice with the lock. The minute Tommy stepped out or disappeared into his room, Eddie would slip into the cellar with bent pins and rusted metal stashed in his pockets like treasure. Tommy's gifts waited for Eddie at the bottom, reminding him why he had to help even when no one told him to.
As the pins clicked and scratched at the lock, Eddie imagined himself on the rooftop of a noble's manor. A cloak that only existed in Eddie's mind billowed in the night air as he slipped past guards and unlocked the window with a flick of his wrist. He imagined Tommy waiting just inside, grinning with pride at his little accomplice.
In the real world, the lock didn't budge. But Eddie kept going, even when his fingers got sore and his eyes stung from squinting in the dim candlelight. Frustration bubbled in Eddie's heart every time he heard footsteps upstairs or he grew too weary to keep going. But every night, he got a little closer to figuring out that accursed lock.
A week later, something shifted. The pin slid in just right, and Eddie heard a soft click. At first, Eddie didn't move, too stunned to believe it was real. Then he pulled the lock open and nearly dropped it in shock.
Eddie was still sitting there, heart racing, when Tommy opened the cellar door. "You down here again?" Tommy descended the latter to approach, then paused when he saw the lock hanging open in Eddie's hands.
Eddie looked up, beaming with triumph.
"Well." Tommy's gaze shifted between Eddie's face and the lock in his hands as a faint smile reached his eye. "I'll be damned."
Eddie and Tommy made their usual rounds through the market the next morning. Their boots slipped through patches of slush as the world trudged through the slow thaw of a New Year. Eddie kept close to Tommy's side, his wool hat tugged snug over his ears and the carved bird peeking from the pocket of his tattered coat.
The bustle of the market still loomed large to a kid Eddie's size, with elbows and boots and rushed voices all jostling around him. But today, Eddie held his chin a little higher than he used to. Tommy chatted with the fishmonger like nothing had changed while Eddie moved through the crowd with a purpose. He kept his eyes shifting, watching the corners, gauging the moods of anyone who passed too close, checking hands for bottles and hips for hidden blades. A man with shouting eyes and stained cuffs got too loud at the butcher's stall, and Eddie instinctively shifted to stand in front of Tommy.
There was still a smallness to how Eddie walked. He still tried not to take too much space, tucking the weight of his gratitude beneath every step. To anyone not looking too closely, nothing about Eddie had changed, but underneath was the pulse of a quiet pride.
It was working.
Eddie could help, even when Tommy said he didn't have to. Even when the teachers insisted he shouldn't. Eddie knew what he could carry now. His hands were still small, but they could sew a button or hold a purse. And now, they could open a lock. Eddie's eyes were sharp, and his silence was sharper still. And if no one said anything, that just meant he was doing it right.
While Tommy haggled good-naturedly with the greengrocer, Eddie's eyes drifted past the stalls. The subdued smile on his face lingered as Eddie pulled his coat tightly around his chest. His eyes quietly tracked the slow shuffles and outbursts of the crowd. A man yelled about unfair prices. A girl about Eddie's age tugged at her mother's sleeve for candy. A dog barked at the legs of a cart horse.
Eddie stood still and silent, taking in everything he could see without being seen. Near the edge of the produce stall, behind the broad back of a merchant too distracted with another customer to notice, Eddie saw something. The corner of a loose wooden crate dipped just enough to spill out a scatter of apples across the wet snow. A few had already rolled far from the stall's reach.
Eddie's eyes swept the scene once more. Nobody was watching. Eddie crouched down like he was adjusting the strap on his boots, shifted close to one of the apples, and palmed it in a fluid motion. His heart stuttered, but his face never changed. By the time Tommy turned around with two wrapped parcels and a half-joking complaint about grain prices, Eddie had already tucked the apple into his pocket, right by a wing carved from wood.
The errand carried on like any other. Tommy ruffled Eddie's hair through his hat. Eddie trailed behind him, arms full of what they could afford. He still walked small, kept to the sides of the roads when he could, and let adults pass with a whispered "sorry" when they brushed too close. When they were just about to leave the market, Eddie's eyes flicked to a woman across the road. She was broad-shouldered, with a grizzled expression and an old coat half-concealing the pistol at her belt.
She was headed the same way they were. Eddie's felt colder than usual as he tugged gently on Tommy's coat. "Hey, Tommy. You said we were out of pepper, right?" Eddie pointed towards a spice cart tucked between a florist and an apothecary. "I think that stall had it cheap last time."
"Did I?" Tommy frowned, then gave a soft laugh. "Good catch, kiddo. Guess I'm gettin g forgetful." The two turned around, and Tommy let Eddie guide him down the side street back towards the market.
Eddie glanced back. The armed woman was still moving past the intersection behind them, slow and steady. She never noticed the way she'd almost crossed paths with a little boy in tattered rags watching her every move.
When Eddie and Tommy turned onto their street, the sun was already bleeding into the horizon. Tommy moved a little slower than he had that morning, leaning more of his weight on the peg leg than usual. Eddie could see the exhaustion in the slump of his shoulders, even as Tommy kept the same cheerful voice while talking about what they'd make for dinner tonight.
Eddie smiled along, holding the parcels a little tighter in his arms. He still watched for strangers who walked too close or who stared a little too long, keeping his guard up until the moment the door was locked and they were safely inside. That same pride threaded through Eddie's freezing nerves. He'd helped. He'd made sure nothing went wrong. He'd gotten an extra apple and kept Tommy from walking straight into a gun, and no one noticed.
Tommy collapsed into the nearest chair with a groan. "Remind me," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Not to be ambitious with groceries next time."
Eddie reached into his tattered coat and pulled the apple from his pocket. He held it out like it was nothing, like it hadn't taken all the courage in the world to lift it without being seen. "Here. For you."
Tommy stared at it. There was a pause, too long for something so small, before he reached out and took it. "Thanks," Tommy said softly, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint, pained smile.
"I love you, Tommy."
"I love you too, Eddie."
The look on Tommy's face - tired but softened, gratitude curling his smile wider - was the best reward Eddie could ask for. Eddie's heart swelled, full and tight all at once. He slipped away before Tommy could say anything more. First to put the parcels neatly in their place, then back to his room, where that old rusted lock and its bent pins were waiting for him.
The errand was over, but the work had just begun. Eddie crouched on the floor beside his bed, the lock pressed between his knees and his fingers settling into the motion he'd spent a week learning in the cellar. Eddie had gotten it open once-- once! Now the goal shifted from picking the lock to mastering it. The boy sought understanding of the way those rusted pins responded to tension, the subtle clicks that told him when things went right or wrong.
Eddie adjusted the pin between his fingers and felt the resistance in the lock shift. Those stubborn tumblers scraped without budging. Eddie paused. He listened, reset, and started again. Again and again and again. In time, Eddie would feel the mechanism like it was second nature. For now, a smile tugged on his face in the dim quiet as the lock clicked open once more.
By mid-January, Eddie could open the lock in under an hour. Sometimes, he got it on the first try. Sometimes, a dozen pins snapped in his hands. Eddie tried different ways of holding the bent pins to brace the tension on the lock, taking breaks just long enough for his fingers to warm up and his frustration to cool down.
Every day after school, Eddie would head straight for his room, drop his school bag, and dig out that stubborn little box. He sat cross-legged on his bed, lock nestled in his lap and eyes narrowed in focus. It had become a quiet, reassuring ritual, fueled by dreams of being more than a burden.
Some day, maybe soon, Tommy wouldn't have to sneak out alone in the dead of night. Eddie imagined the day he would be fast enough, sharp enough, useful enough to go with him. In Eddie's mind, the two of them moved like a storybook duo, swiping goods and ducking danger. Some day, maybe soon, Eddie would lift Tommy up instead of weighing him down.
He was grinning by the time the lock gave way again. Eddie let out a soft breath and turned the old thing over in his hands. The mechanism rattled faintly as Eddie reset it for the hundredth time, already thinking of how he'd shave a few more seconds off tomorrow. No one told Eddie he had to help, but they were in this together now, and Eddie was getting better by the minute.
Tommy didn't come home until the dead of night. The front door clicked open when Eddie least expected it, letting in a gust of cold air and the sharp scent of melted snow. Dreams of midnight adventures snapped just in time for Eddie to hear the heavy, careful tread of boots crossing the threshold.
Eddie rushed towards the door to find specks of half-melted snow covering Tommy's coat. He looked worn to the bone - and happy. Something in a crinkled brown bag rested in Tommy's hands. "Merry Christmas, kiddo." Tommy held out the bag with the kind of gentleness people used for something fragile.
Eddie didn't get it until he opened the bag. Inside was a massive half-sphere with the unmistakable scent of chocolate. Eddie blinked like he might be dreaming. He'd forgotten about it by now, or at least tried to forget. He'd told himself over and over again not to expect anything more. And here it was.
Eddie knew exactly where it came from, and Tommy knew exactly what it meant, without having to say a thing. The way Tommy held Eddie's hand and Eddie clutched the chocolate close to his chest said more than words ever could.