Disclaimer – I do not own or profit from Ed, Edd N Eddy. This story is rated PG-13 for adult themes, though it perhaps could've gone a little lower; I wanted to be safe.
Author's Note- Inspired by a conversation I had with darthelwig about her EEnE story "The Sweetness". If you enjoy slash, check it out. Just so you know, this story has nothing in common with that one. But we were discussing names...
Anyway, enjoy. Peace, all.
Names
by Ghost Helwig
He was Edward when he was here, alone in his home. Edward was the name on all the sticky notes, Edward was the boy his parents and teachers apparently adored. Edward was the one who sat straight in class, who answered questions, who raised his hand.
Usually, the boy didn't enjoy being Edward all that much.
Eddward with the three d's was created by his friends, when Ed, the lovable oaf, misled by his nickname, gave his given name an extra d. The boy rather liked spelling his name this way, liked the story behind it, the history. Anything his friends gave him was treasured, and they had given him this. So Eddward he was when involved in a scam that required he be respected, and Eddward he was in his own head.
Double D was the name his friends called him, and it was both treasured and simply tolerated as thus. He'd never really liked nicknames – names were given for a reason, and only in full did he believe they held their true meaning – but the love behind such a gesture as giving him a nickname was there, and valued. And it was this name that had led to Eddward, which was still the only thing that made being Edward tolerable.
But Double D was also the problem, and the pleasure. Double D was the one who got in trouble, who messed up, who failed. But he was also the one who relaxed, who let go, who lived.
The name the boy found he cherished most was Edd. When he was Edd he was part of a group – he belonged. Edd was an Ed, a person who fit, a person with friends. Edd was a success, in ways Edward, Eddward, and even Double D could not be.
He had other names, of course. Double Dork, Double Drip, simply Dork, or whatever silly, cruel name Kevin or even Eddy, one of his best friends, would throw at him. But they didn't matter. Those names were nothing, discarded and dull. He was never any one of them for very long.
A different person would've resented this, would've hated being fragmented in such a way. But it was easier for this strange changeling of a boy to discover who he was by dissecting the various puzzle pieces of his self. The scientist that was a part of every name within him rearing his head, no doubt.
He wondered, every once in a while, what he would be left with if all those names were stripped away. It was a terrifying thought, and inescapable for that very reason.
For he'd designed these separate compartments for his being because he found he really wasn't all that compatible with himself. How could he even dream of reconciling the moralist Eddward with the Double D who, however unwillingly, went along with all of Eddy's schemes, no matter how wrong? Or the Edd who had friends with the Edward who'd moved into the cul-de-sac believing wholeheartedly that he never would?
And most especially, how could he reconcile the Edward who believed his parents to be perfect, and all the other names, who'd learned that they were not?
It didn't bear thinking about.
So he pulled his hat on, carefully hiding all evidence of the bump on his head he'd gotten from his father, who'd returned the night before after weeks of being gone just to throw him into a wall for no good reason except that he was there.
And thus it was Sockhead who walked out the door to meet his pals, Sockhead who eagerly went along with Eddy's schemes, Sockhead who loved jawbreakers and who quietly rebelled against his parents' rules every time he ate one, Sockhead who abandoned all decorum when the moment suited him.
It was Sockhead who had something to hide.
And it was Sockhead who kept him breathing.