Eddie, upon reflection, realised he had pulled a Laurel, and felt unusually penitent about nosing around in Em’s business. He simply wasn’t used to people who couldn’t be understood or entertained. So the next day, he bought a pack of Peter Stuyvesant Lite and wrote “Sorry” on it in black marker. As gifts went, it wasn’t the extravagant kind Eddie usually gave, but a secret argument seemed to require a secret apology. So he left the pack on the desk, hoping Em would find it, and know he meant it.

November approached, the chill had set in properly, and Eddie wasn’t the only one who cursed the thin walls of the Blue House.

“We need an office.” Laurel complained to Richards one evening when they were all working late. Eddie and Richards were sharing one desk, and Em and Laurel were seated across the other, stapling papers together. She was hunched against the cold, practically sitting on top of the single heater they had available. Christian and Bren had braved the outside to go and find somewhere that would sell them hot chocolate at eight in the evening.

“Hopefully, after we officially open, we can make it enough of a success that the board will give us a room somewhere.” Richards replied distractedly

“But then we wouldn’t have the Blue House.” Eddie pointed out, referring to their beautifully painted, if bitingly cold, box.

“We can make a plan. As long as it means central heating.” Laurel replied grumpily.

Eddie turned and looked at her over his shoulder. “How on earth do you survive in Binkytown? I hear it snows there.”

“Only a bit. It’s more like slush. And I survive by never leaving the house.”

“How do you eat?”

Laurel looked at him like it was obvious. “Bren.”

“Of course. You have no shame.”

“None. I hate the cold.”

But she was still there. They were all there, working more hours than an actual paying job. If Eddie had ever doubted her dedication to the project, the fact that she was still forcing herself out of the house after dark in icy temperatures laid those doubts to rest. He hadn’t been able to pull her out of the apartment at all the previous winter.

In fact, he hadn’t been to visit much lately at all. The Blue House project was taking up so much of his time and energy, he was actually using his dorm room bed, since it was a closer walk, when he wasn’t burning the midnight oil in the Blue House itself. He missed them, and Christian, but not as much as he thought he would. Possibly because Christian made appearances at the Blue House too, always with Brendan tow. But this didn’t bother him as much as it used to, and he supposed he could thank the distraction of the project for that.

Since Em’s observance of his crush, Eddie had forced himself to pull back and look at himself. He had been mooning like a lovesick puppy. He would never hold it against Christian for being oblivious, but he couldn’t forgive himself for it, not quite. It wasn’t that he didn’t accept that Christian would never feel the same way, because that much was clear. But he hadn’t bothered to heave himself out of the mire of his lovelorn thinking. It made him stupid; worse, it made him not-Eddie.