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dreamcatcherjiah · 4 years

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Until we meet again. JK x reader

Part 1

A/N: @mabel-k3 sent these my way and I had a fantastic idea so I asked her and she allowed me to combine both!! What beautiful requests, these have unleashed my creativity big time!! Thank you for requesting, Momo!!

Also thanks to my lovie @lysjeon because she hyped me up so much after reading it and what can I say? THANK YOU TO YOU BOTH 🥺🥺🥺

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (Jungkook has different names throughout his different lives, but they’re easy to spot ;))

Genre: ANGST, fluff, Reincarnation fic

Word count: 11.5k

Warnings: graphic violence, weapons, mentions of death, mentions of war, assassination, main character death (repeatedly), (and I think that’s it. If you find something triggering that I haven't listed, please let me know!! Enjoy!!)

Kingdom of Great Joseon, Hanseong. Year 1398.

Voices carried through the garden. Some of the guards were posted at the doors to prevent the peasants from entering the palace. Or to stop someone from getting out. The tumult and noise wouldn’t stop, carried by gossipy maids and new, inexperienced soldiers. They would learn, either one way or another. The Palace had been in an uproar since the King started thinking about abdicating, the Princes feeling uneasy, waiting to see which one of them would wear the crown next. Having listened to your fair share of courtly gossip, as the first assistant to the royal doctor, you knew there was actually no love lost between the Princes. Their attitudes were haughty at best and most of them were more concerned with their whimsy pursues than the good of such an incipient kingdom as Joseon was. King Taejo was a good monarch; he made peace with China and the Ashikaga Shogunate, bringing peace to his country after many years of war and uncertainty, yet it seemed his problems laid closer to Hanseong than he would have hoped.

His advisors had been the most loyal to him until the moment came when they had to pick a side to place their loyalty. Only one of his eight sons would become King and with him would come new favours to those who supported him and punishment for those who went against him in the battle for the throne. Word at court was that one of Taejo’s advisers, Prime Minister Jeong Do-jeon, was siding towards the two sons Queen Sindeok had borne the king. He had managed to place Prince Uian as the main heir to his father a few years back, but the opinion of most of the advisors was leaning towards the opposite direction; Crown Prince Uian and his brother Prince Muan may have been the most beloved by the King, but it was clear they were not what the kingdom needed of a monarch.

“Word has it in the King’s chamber that he will heed Jeong Do-jeon’s advice and do away with the Fifth Prince once and for all,” said one of the Queen Shinui’s chambermaids. The Fifth Prince, Prince Jeongan, was the favoured alternative at court. He was everything his half-brothers weren’t, intelligent, determined, and good for the kingdom. Naturally, he was a threat to Do-jeon and his cohort. “I hope Crown Prince Uian does become king,” she said, a dreamy cadence to her voice, “I may think about asking my father to introduce me as a possible consort.”

They were so enthralled in their conversation that they did not notice how they were directly in your path and neither did you, carrying boxes of supplies definitely too heavy for you. The inevitable crash echoed through the place as an explosion, glass vases and tonic bottles breaking, the minuscule shards of crystal flying in every direction leaving you, sitting ungracefully at its centre looking bewildered and quite a bit furious.

“What in the world do you think you were doing, gossiping like that?” you asked them. Your authority in the palace giving you quite the leverage to properly chastise these two silly girls. “What would have happened if it had been a higher official you had crashed into? Or, God forbid, one of the Princes or someone from the royal family?”

That last remark made them both drop to their knees and start profusely apologising. The prospect of losing their heads was a tad bit more fear-inducing than crashing into the Doctor’s apprentice and doing away with their supplies. As they scurried away and you picked up what you could salvage from the floor, you thought how convenient it was for them, here in the palace; their fathers trusted advisors to the King, with significant names backing them with years of honour and courageous deeds for the advancement of the monarchy. They would have everything they asked for at their feet if they so much as muttered they found themselves wanting it.

Passing through one of the storage rooms by the Doctor’s quarters, a hand emerged out of nowhere and you found yourself losing your balance and the grip you had on the glass of herbal poultice you rescued from the wreckage in the garden, which crashed on the straw floor with a muted thud.

“What you did back there to the daughter of Nam Eun could as well cost you your head,” said a voice you could recognise in a crowd. The soft chuckle that accompanied the threat and the sweet of his breath against the shell of your ear calmed your anxious thoughts and gave freedom to your heart to beat its way out of your chest. Strong, calloused hands circled your waist and you found yourself leaning against a firm chest that vibrated with his laughter and got closer and closer to you with every breath he took. “But I won’t tell on you, my dear.”

Turning around, you laid your eyes in the weathered and dirty face of the person you held most dear in this world. Oh Jookee was the captain of the Palace Regiment assigned to the protection of the Crown Prince and he had just arrived from accompanying him on a stakeout, preparing for the hunting season. His brown eyes held yours tenderly and his whole face morphed as he tried to contain a smile from overtaking his features. His pink lips finally gave way to that beautiful smile, his eyes turning into crescents and his cheeks becoming flush with happiness.

“My love, how did you manage to come back so… untidy?” you asked, pushing back some stray hairs that had escaped his manggeon. His hair was curling at his temples having escaped from the confines of the leather binding in at the top of his head. The accessory was a bit crooked and you could see the sweat beads along the black cloth. He gave you the image of how he must have been when he was younger and played on the dirt with his brothers. “I thought the Crown Prince just wanted to breathe some fresh air and prepare for tomorrow’s outing?”

Jookee nuzzled his nose along the column of your neck, causing that welcomed current from the tip of your toes to the end of the longest hair on your head. You hadn’t seen each other in months, and this meeting, while short-lived and clandestine, would be what would carry you through the months before you could ask the king permission to marry.

“We encountered some trouble on the way back and thought it prudent to bring the Princes back earlier. They are in Prince Muan’s chambers as we speak and I am required to join them presently.” He said. Even though he was young to be in such a powerful position, he took his duty to heart and he would never disobey an order, which made you question what he was doing hiding with you in the supply cupboard, and so you made him aware of your worry.

“You know Crown Prince Uian,” he answered, a sardonic smile spreading his lips after he managed to steal a kiss from yours, “he enjoys beauty and pristineness. In my present state I am still beautiful, but much less than pristine,” he joked. “I was sent away with the mission to do myself up with clothes fitting for a general, my dear.”

“Why, General Oh, I am afraid you will find yourself quite a long way away from your quarters,” you flirted. “How will you go back to the Prince in time, and all decent, if you don’t leave me now?”

Laughing at your poor attempt at jesting, he hugged you close to his chest, releasing a sigh when he couldn’t get his body any closer to yours. The happiness you felt in these kinds of moments was matchless to anything you had ever felt before meeting him, and nothing you would feel in your life together from then on.

“I must change my clothes, I am afraid,” he said, separating himself from you, slowly as if it was costing him an immense effort to do so, “go back to your master and be careful today, my flower,” he frowned. “The slight inconvenience I mentioned before is not yet taken care of, please watch yourself.”

Knowing he wouldn’t play you with something he didn’t consider serious, you promised to be more mindful of your surroundings and watched him go, with happiness in your heart and that already familiar sensation in your whole being, that sensation you felt every time you were forced to part.

It was nearly dusk when you were called to what used to be Queen Sindeok’s chambers before she died. A normal occurrence, it made you be just that bit more careful today. Even though Jookee’s warning managed to keep you on your toes through the day, there was no harm in being reasonably suspicious. After all, you were living in court.

Princess Gyeongsun, regal and poised, was sitting at a low desk in the middle of the room, flanked on both sides by her brothers, Crown Prince Uian and Prince Muan. Giving a quick overview of the room before being granted access, you located Jookee easily, a very imposing presence by Crown Prince Uian’s elbow. He looked completely different, wearing dark clothing beneath his shining armour and a concentrated scowl distorting his handsome features. He was the living, breathing image of a hero. His eyes drifted to yours for a brief second and you noticed how his mouth set in a thin line and a crease of worry settled between his brows.

With a twist of her wrist, the Princess called you over, and you busied yourself with serving her special tea blend, infused to perfection, just the way she enjoyed it. The Princes were bickering, back and forth, about some unbelievable treason they had not expected, how it completely changed the power game between the walls of the palace. Having been living this power struggle since you arrived at the palace five years prior, you were quite accustomed to the tension and the fear of betrayal that so delicately held the equilibrium of life in court; that being said, there was a seriousness to Crown Prince Uian’s tone that you had never heard before. He was the youngest of the princes, carefree and with a happy disposition, so to say that the frown adorning his features was disturbing was quite an understatement.

Chancing a look at Jookee’s face, you noticed his eyes moving nervously from the windows on the sides of the room, flanked by armed soldiers of the Crown Prince’s guard, to the door equally heavily guarded. Something was seriously amiss, but you needn’t have wondered any longer, as there was a commotion by the door and Jookee along with some of his soldiers moved in unison, blocking the Princess and Princes, and subsequently you, from whatever it was that waiting on the other side of the door. After a few minutes, silence took over and the tension escalated. Prince Muan was whispering furiously to his brother, his face red and distressed.

“We should have fled the palace,” he was saying, “as soon as we found out Do-jeon was murdered!” When those words left the Prince’s lips you knew how serious the situation was. The delicate equilibrium of power had just been altered with the death of the most powerful pawn at the hands of a very powerful enemy. “We should have never trusted him, he played you brother—”

Jookee made a curt but powerful hissing sound that managed to shut the Prince’s mouth in an instant. In any other circumstances, that would have gotten him the most severe of punishments, but as things stood, Jookee and his men were the only thing standing between certain death and the royals, and both princes knew that.

The doors imploded and in flooded many soldiers led by a very tall imposing man: Grand Prince Jeongan, the Fifth Prince. His face was impassive and his clothes were covered in dry blood. He didn’t seem at all bothered by this fact, as he wasn’t at all worried that the blood of the people he had murdered at the door was reaching his shoes. He straightened his shoulders and marched on forward, standing eye to eye with Jookee.

Your blood turned to ice. Jookee was the Captain of Prince Uian’s guard. If this was an attempt on his life, he would be the first one to fight. He could keep up in a fight, you had been witness to his quick strength and cold strategy when he trained on the palace grounds, grace and sheer power emanating through every pore of his body. But still, he was a guard sworn to protect the royal family, what was his fate when faced with such a decision as to protect one brother from the other? He would be seen as a traitor if he did so much as to grace Prince Jeongan with his sword, but if he resisted and didn’t raise his weapon, he would be seen as a traitor either way and executed for it. Your heart was trying to beat its way out of you, this time out of utter terror for what was about to happen. Your thoughts were your own, and so you allowed yourself to pray for him, to pray for the brightest star in the universe, the reason you drew breath every morning, you prayed for him to know his duty but also to know the value of his own life in a world that valued it so little in comparison to the people he was sworn to protect.

Time seemed to be at a stand-still, Prince Jeongan and Jookee face to face, looking each other in the eye, not a word being uttered. The Prince was a few years older than Jookee and much older than his brothers by Queen Sindeok, the youngest of them having barely turned sixteen last spring. There had been a time when the brothers played together and there was deep respect from the younger ones to the older, and a deep sense of responsibility and desire to protect the younger ones from the older princes. Now there was only betrayal in the eyes of the Fifth Prince and utter fear in the eyes of his younger siblings.

“You have no authority to stand on the way of a Prince, General. Move aside while I feel benevolent,” Prince Jeongan’s voice was deep and imposing, the voice of a person who was used to having his will fulfilled and his detractors beheaded. Turning your head, you saw Jookee’s shoulders take an even more determined stand and he stood, taller, determined, while more soldiers filled in the room.

Prince Muan, taking advantage of the distracted state of his older brother, had moved slightly to his right, so he was partially hidden behind Princess Gyeongsun. In the meanwhile, his younger brother, Crown Prince Uian had shifted in his sitting position and was sitting facing forward, towards the soldiers, with an impassive frown and a set sneer. In your opinion, neither one of them was fit to be king of Joseon, but you knew now who was the best of the two; at least the King had managed to marginally avoid putting a gutless puppet on the throne.

“If I move aside you may do something you will regret, my Prince,” answered Jookee, his voice calm and levelled. His words were not betraying the tumult that he was sure to be feeling inside. In a subtle movement, while he was still watching the Fifth Prince carefully, his eyes turned to you and you wanted nothing more than to tell him not to worry for you, to keep his head where it should be. “If you are here to talk to your brothers, allow the Princess and the servant to leave, they shouldn’t hear what will be said here tonight.”

You had no time to wonder what that was, for the prince had already drawn his sword and was pointing it towards Jookee’s throat, making thick droplets of sweat appear on your temples.

“And allow them to go warn my dear father’s guards of my presence here?” Jeongan chuckled and pressed forward, his sword drawing blood from Jookee’s skin. “I don’t believe so. It is, however, such a pity that you should find yourself here, General Oh, on the night I have come to kill my brothers.”

Those words made the night turn into chaos. With a swiftness you didn’t think him capable of, Prince Muan raised his sister from her cushion and moved with her towards one of the windows. The Princess, scared, reached for you and dragged you along behind her coward of a brother. When you were close to the window, you realised there was a shadow moving behind it. What a terrible mistake to leave the windows unattended when the prince entered. With a crashing certainty you knew now there was going to be a bloodbath tonight and there was nothing you could do to either flee the scene with Jookee unscathed or having him leaving with you willingly. What a horrible night for all the intrigues in the palace to come to fruition.

The soldiers charged forward and Jookee finally drew his sword to fight off the Prince, his movements fast and certain to try to defuse the sheer rage with which Prince Jeongan was pushing him backwards. The closer the squabble got to the Crown Prince, the harder he fought, and the harder Prince Muan pushed his sister to get to the window. Reacting just in time, you pulled the Princess backwards in the same second the window burst open and an arrow pierced the Prince’s chest. Incredulous, he dropped his eyes down in time to see a crimson stain spread over his blue silk-covered chest. Mere seconds after his eyes rolled back into his skull and his body dropped to the floor as if he had been nothing more than a marionette whose strings had been severed. Princess Gyeongsun, to her credit, kept a stoic and quiet calm even while life escaped her brother and got a hold of your hand. The both of you retreated to the furthest corner of the room while the fight to get to Crown Prince Uian was still ongoing and the bodies were dropping to the floor at an alarming rate. Jookee, now fighting the Fifth prince tooth and nail, kept his place close to the door, mindful of his surroundings in case he had to intervene if one of the soldiers got too close to his charge. More soldiers were entering through the now open window and now there was the added issue of arrows flying in all directions through the narrow window, taking down both friend and foe.

One of the Fifth Prince’s soldiers got rid of the guard fighting him off and advanced on the Crown Prince. Jookee, seeing this, turned his back on Jeongan and dispatched him before he could reach his target. In the few seconds that passed between the soldier falling and him looking at you, the dimension of his faux pas dawned on you. With his back unprotected and his eyes fixed on you to make sure no wounds were visible, he didn’t see Prince Jeongan raise his sword over his head and drop it in a powerful arch that cut deep wounds onto Jookee’s legs. The momentum propelled him forward, landing on his knees with a deep grimace of pain distorting his features.

You were frozen, pushing your body against the Princess’ so that she would come to no harm, but your whole world was leaning out of its axis. Your breath caught in your throat and all you could do was watch helplessly as the Fifth Prince walked by Jookee as if he was nothing more than an insect and approach his brother, who remained imperturbable and unmovable at the table. Looking up at his older brother, his frown still set, he straightened his shoulders and adopted a regal pose he rarely displayed.

“What are you doing here, brother?” he asked, knowing perfectly well the circumstances of his brother arriving at the palace in the middle of the night, and still enquired.

“You know perfectly well why I have come, little one,” he answered, sneering down at the young prince. “There was an attempt on my life not two days ago by that rat, the Prime Minister! And you and your filthy family were all behind it!” his voice was rising with each word, ending on a terrible scream that made the paper lamps hanging from the columns tremble.

Jookee was still kneeling, two soldiers standing rock-still next to him, one sword at his throat, the other at the nape of his neck. His eyes kept moving from where you were standing at the back of the room, to the quarrelling brothers, not knowing what to do, whom to help. He looked utterly helpless, his shoulders slumping and his trousers absorbing the spilt blood of his men. When you caught his eye, you saw the intense desperation that his eyes were hiding. You were aching to run to him, to tell him everything would be all right, but with the corpse of Prince Muan at your feet, you felt that the circumstances wouldn’t actually improve.

“That conspiration you are mentioning, brother, was staged by my mother Queen Sindeok and the Prime Minister as you so eloquently put,” spoke then the Crown Prince, “At present, I believe neither of them is a threat to you; the Queen died two years ago and I believe you did away with Do-jeon’s head not so long ago.”

“YOU ARE A THREAT TO ME!” Jeongan shouted. “Don’t you see? Had you not blindly followed your mother schemes; you wouldn’t have to die!”

The princes faced each other now, Jeongan in his thirties and Uian barely a teenager, both standing their ground. You could see their younger versions, the siblings everyone saw when the Fifth Prince would come back from a campaign in the name of his father and his siblings would be waiting for him in the palace, waiting for him to tell them the stories of his exploits and missions. What a fanciful far away dream that was.

With a snap of his wrists, one of his soldiers zeroed in on you and the Princess, who stood her ground with a presence few were able to muster in such circumstances. The man didn’t immediately make any move to grab any of you but his menacing eyes were set and his mouth contorted on a wicked rictus. He was the kind of soldier who thoroughly enjoyed his job; they were rare, those who instead of the honour of serving the royals sought only the power and the bloodbath, but they did exist. Jookee noticed him approaching from his position on the floor behind the princes and your hopes of leaving the room alive flew out of the window upon seeing his ashen face turn even whiter. You tried to convey how much you loved him with one look but the brute got in between and you could only see the soldiers pointing their swords at your lover’s throat.

“You have always sneered down at me knowing you would be sitting on the throne, safely away from me, when I realised how deeply treachery ran in your blood,” someone was saying. Your ability to concentrate on anything happening around you was slipping away from you, a blindly, white panic taking its place. “You shielded yourself with all the glamour and fanfare while your family were busy scheming, even your dear siblings conspired against you.”

As if some silent signal had been given, the Princess was taken from your side and made to kneel next to her brothers. She was still impassive, but now that façade wasn’t so much bravery in the face of danger, but actual knowledge of what was going to happen in the room and certainty that it wouldn’t affect her.

“You see, out of all our sisters, this one here has proven herself quite useful,” Jeongan droned on, unbothered by nothing while the future of a kingdom hung on the tip of his sword. “I was told ambition is not an appreciated trait on a woman, but I’m inclined to disagree. You can leave the room now, sister,” he said while she rose to her feet. She was nearly out of his reach when he reached out with his hand and caught her arm just above the elbow. “I don’t need to tell you that your presence here and what has happened tonight is not for public ears, now do I?” She shook her head and scurried out of the room faster than lightning.

If his sister’s betrayal did something to the Crown Prince, he didn’t show it. His face remained unreadable, his eyes fixated on the Fifth Prince as he pranced around him, comfortable in his victory. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Jeongan faced Crown Prince Uian for the final time and raised his sword in a silver, lethal arch. Aside from a minuscule flinch, the younger prince didn’t betray any reaction to the crimson stain spreading over his silk garments, nor to the metallic smell that seemed to penetrate the pores of every person in the room.

“I could let you live,” said Jeongan, “if you begged for your pathetic life on your knees. You have no supporters and you have proven to be the coward every single one of your detractors thought you were.”

Jookee was vibrating with rage behind the Princes. His eyes were thin slits that promised murder. In all the years you had known him, he had never looked as lethal and dangerous as he did now. He had been tasked with protecting the Crown Prince when he was no more than a boy himself and he had told you many stories about who Uian really was behind his mother and the minister’s plans. Granted, Jookee was as exasperated with the younger man’s excessive knack towards frivolity as everyone at court, but he also admired the Prince’s tenacity and courage. Growing up in the shadows of bigger people has taught him how to stand out, and yet remain unseen, he had told you one day, while the two of you returned to the palace from a festival in the city. He was relaxed back then, the Queen was still alive and, even though Minister Do-jeon was meddling on the King’s affairs more than recommended, the air of the palace wasn’t stale with tension and the expectation of tragedy, at least not for a few more years. It was around that time when he took you to his hometown and introduced you to his family; his mother, who shed tears as soon as her son told her his intentions on marrying you, his father, a stern man but who had warm eyes and very pleasant disposition; and his older brother, a high ranking officer in the King’s personal guard. You had spent the week helping his mother with anything she needed, tending to visitors and sharing private smiles with him. Happiness filled you back then.

“You came here to kill me,” answered Crown Prince Uian, bringing you back to a much darker present, “so go ahead and do it. I will not be considered some lesser being and be reduced to begging for my life.”

Upon seeing the older Prince raise his sword you started struggling against the thug keeping you in place. To impede you from reaching the royals, the soldier threw any decency to the wind and, taking advantage of his position, groped you all over. You hardly noticed as Crown Prince Uian straightened his shoulders and faced his brother head-on, for you were trying your hardest to escape the ruffian and get closer to them, perhaps if you could get rid of him and run fast enough you would be able to get in between the sword, avoid more years of chaos and instability. A double assassination could throw the kingdom into war and that could not happen.

“That’s it, you little bitch, you asked for it,” growled the man, and seconds later pain exploded from just below your ribcage, ripping through you until you felt the skin of your back breaking apart. There was a moment of blissful nothing until the sword was hastily jerked from your body and your body broke into violent spasms, your knees giving away and collapsing on the floor with an audible thud.

“NO!” you heard Jookee scream, an agonising growl, almost animalistic, as if it had been ripped from the deepest part of his soul. You heard him from a distance as if your head was submerged in water. The black edges of your vision made it difficult to see through the haze setting in; there was movement and a good amount of noise, of which you couldn’t make any sense, as the room tilted and you felt your temple hit the ground. In comparison with the flaming hot agony you felt around your mid-section, this injury felt ridiculously insignificant.

“Restrain him!” was saying the Fifth Prince, but Jookee was putting up an impressive fight. Not minding the swords at his throat, he rose to his feet and charged forward, swinging his sword at anything on his way to you. Rotten luck his was, as one of the things keeping him away from you was Prince Jeongan, who narrowly missed one of Jookee’s swings by a mere breath, jumping aside and seizing him by the hair at the back of his head. The crazed look on your boy’s face slipped away for a second and you could see the determined captain fighting against his better judgement and thinking if whether or not it would be worth it to raise his sword against the Prince. “You fool,” the Prince droned on, a dangerous glint in his eyes, “do you even know what you could have done? Had you left a scar in my body, I wouldn’t have been able to become king and all these assassinations would have been fruitless! I see you care more about some servant than the people you’re tasked to protect, do you not? If I recall correctly, the punishment for high treason is death.”

If you weren’t already trembling and cold, the ice that covered your heart at the Prince’s threat would have had you an incoherent mess in the floor in seconds. Your throat produced a drawn-out wheezing sound, but no one paid any mind to the agonising woman on the floor, not even your murderer, who had gone back to his position behind Jeongan.

Restrained from moving by the strong hand yanking his head back by the hair, Jookee moved his eyes to look at you and you could see through them how much it was breaking him to see you on the floor, away from him, and not being able, if not to take the pain away, to be next to you. He turned his gaze to the Prince and, with a voice clearer and steadier than you expected, giving that he was trembling out of rage, defied him one last time.

“I won’t protect a King whose throne is cemented over the blood of his own kin,” he said, poised and authoritative, even in this situation.

Not even deigning to give words back, Jeongan took the sword with which the soldier had run you through and impaled Jookee with it. For an instant, your vision cleared through your panicked tears and you could see the placid smile on your Jookee’s face, as a small spring of blood run from the corner of his mouth down his chin.

“If you care so much for this woman, over your own Prince, you might as well die by the same steel that killed her,” said the Fifth Prince before pulling out the sword and pushing Jookee’s head forward by the neck so that he fell on his side, a bit closer to you.

Whatever happened from the moment he collided with the floor onwards was lost to you. The sole focus of your drifting attention was focused on how Jookee was pulling himself by sheer force of will away from the royals, leaving a crimson trail behind him, toward where you lay, tears leaving his eyes from the pain, but certain and determined.

Lifting his head, his eyes locked with you as he grunted and you could see a thousand moments in one second; when the Court Doctor had introduced you to a scrawny lithe fifteen-year-old boy from the provinces, that seemed so long ago and yet you lived it as if it had been that same morning. When the bickering of childhood had turned into a beautiful friendship over the years, with him visiting you every time he was stationed at the palace, going on walks together, patching him up when he got rough with another soldier during training. The day he told you about his feelings it had been raining. Both of you had gone fishing to the river and when the sky broke it rained down with a vengeance. Your clothes soaked through so fast you’d had no time to seek shelter, and so it made no difference if you walked leisurely back to the palace or run your way there. Laughing as his hair stuck to his forehead and got tangled on the hilt of the sword strapped to his back, you didn’t notice how he was looking at you, with the softest smile on his lips, and reached a hand out to grab yours.

“I love how you laugh with your whole body,” he whispered. You shouldn’t have been able to hear him over the thundering rain, but you did. “I was meaning to tell you something as soon as we left the palace, but I just seemed to be missing the right moment.”

Tell me, you had whispered, as he drew you closer by the hand, moving a lock of wet hair away from your cheek with his thumb and leaving his hand there, caressing your face. You felt your heart on your throat and your eyes wandered around Jookee’s face, committing every second, every movement of his face to memory: the little scar under his left eye that he had gotten playing with his brother when they were children, the little dimples that showed on his upper lip when he tried to stop himself from laughing, everything.

“I know I am just a simple soldier and you could do much better than me, but I can’t live another day without telling you how you make my heart beat harder and are there every waking moment, in my mind and in my thoughts,” he said, quick and without drawing breath, giving away his nervousness. “We have grown old together. I can’t exactly tell you when my feelings for you changed, but I can just hope that yours did too and I am not overstepping your boundaries. I very much adore you and would be the happiest man on this earth if you loved me back just half as I love you.”

You couldn’t remember if you said something, or just jump into his arms, yours around his neck, and hugged him for the longest time. By the time you got to the palace, soaked through, you were a giddy happy couple who had planned, in such a short little time, what your life would be like when you got married.

It is incredible what the mind remembers in the most inopportune moments. We have grown old together, he had said and damn destiny, you wouldn’t get to grow any older. He was still painstakingly dragging his body to you, your vision blacker as the seconds went by, his face ashen but set. You knew he would reach you even if it cost him the last breath of life he had in his body. You wanted nothing more than be close to him until the end.

When he did reach you, he manoeuvred his body so that both his arms were encircling you, your face set against his chest which was shaking with shivers as violent as the ones you were suffering. Lifting your head with his bloody hand, he angled his so that you could look him in the eye. There, behind all the pain and the sadness at having both your lives cut short, was your boy, your Jookee, the one who had kissed you under rain and sun, over snow and with joyous passion, now dimmed as his consciousness began to slip away as fast as yours was. His lashes were wet with tears as he smiled at you, his teeth tinted with blood. You wanted to scream at the unfairness of today. What were the chances that you had to be here, the both of you, when a power-hungry Prince and a Princess too ambitious for her own good, decided to go around killing their siblings for the throne? Your life was fantastic, you were to be married to Jookee, a loving, caring and sensitive man, who would, no doubt, make your days beautiful and worth living if only to see the smile on his face when he came home.

“I love you,” he whispered, a tear escaping his eye and running down his temple. Your hand, resting on his chest, felt the erratic thump of his heart, trying to pump the little blood he had left to the rest of his body. Numbness had finally taken a hold of your body and you could feel nothing except from an overpowering sadness and helplessness.

“I don’t want you to die,” you sobbed. The hiccup caused by your cries did no good to your tired lungs, that tried to bring back the air you had expelled but were failing miserably. “Why did you… why would you act… so rashly? You… could have lived! You… have so much… to live for.”

“I have nothing to live for without you,” he whispered back, a wheezing sound leaving his body with every word he spoke, “I have no regrets if we leave together, we’ll die as we wanted to live. Holding each other.”

You could no longer keep your head upright, unable to kiss him one last time as you desperately wanted to do. Looking him straight in the eyes, as you heart broke into a million pieces, you whispered to him as your vision blackened completely. His sparkling eyes were the last thing you ever saw.

“I love you,” you told him, feeling your eyes close.

“If there is a life after this, let me find you again,” he said and those were the last words you heard as his body stopped moving and you slipped into unconsciousness.

You were walking along a river, barefooted. You felt as the warm, dark sand caressed your feet as you trod along, tirelessly. You knew you were looking for something, but couldn’t know what. Your mind was foggy and you couldn’t make sense of the flashes of thought that pierced through the milky white sheet. So, you kept on walking, maybe someday you would reach that place. What place? Days turned into months, or did months turn into days? Each hour passed swiftly and each second seemed to last a millennium. The shadows around the transparent willow trees grew closer to you the brighter the sun shined and the meadows were the most brilliant when the moon made its course across the sky. At some point between arriving at the river and then, you had stopped looking at how the sand engulfed your feet and lifted your head to look upon the thousands upon thousands of multicoloured stars that seemed to go on forever and whose light took residence in the most hidden corners of your soul. Silence surrounded you, incredibly noisy, even your footsteps on the sand were silenced. Weren’t you walking along a river? Shouldn’t the stream make some noise and silence your thoughts? You were meant to be someone else, somewhere else, and this unknown guilt was eating away at you. Yes, the night was silent, until it wasn’t anymore. The sound made you drop your head and you saw. The lonely figure walking along the same riverbank, only in the opposite direction. It was getting closer and closer as the years ticked by and you could almost distinguish the dark hair and the strong complexion that made him unforgettable to who you used to be. He was walking towards a bridge, standing proud atop the calm waters of the stream, red and powerful in a land where the dullest of colours were the brightest and the stars shone purple and green. His eyes and expression were covered in shadows and his gait stood out brilliant against the dark colour of the sand. You spent months walking towards him as he kept his steady pace towards you and, even though he was close enough to touch him, you never stopped walking but never could meet him in the bridge standing between the two of you. You were losing hope of ever this familiar stranger, what with having walked what felt like the longitude of the world twice for centuries. He was surely meant to stay there, the focus of your vision, and yet out of reach. Without knowing why that fact struck you as highly unfair. What had you done while living that the person you wanted to hold the most would forever stay strange to your touch? The stars faced and died and still there you were, walking to him, arms wide open and eyes brimming with tears, whispering over and over strange sounds that seemed to form words. Unknown words to you but familiar to him as he started to run. The seconds seemed to tick as if you were now walking through treacle instead of sand and you reached the bridge. Your body collided with his and intense happiness filled your whole being. Keeping him at arm’s length you were finally able to see his features, similar to the ones you remembered but not quite the same; brilliant eyes that seemed to reflect the galaxy over your heads, the scar was still there, but his hair was shorter, trimmed at the nape of his neck. His smile was still the same, blindingly shiny and unchanged.

“I’ll see you on the other side, my love,” he whispered and everything around you dissolved into nothingness.

Pink Hibiscus Cottage, Dartmoor, England. Spring 1922.

Watering the plants in your little cottage, you waited for the people to arrive. After a couple of quiet days, the cottage was going to be full of people and noise again. It had been so long that you could barely remember a time before your husband and you were the only occupants in the small wood house, close to Plymouth in Devon County.

Putting down the hose with some difficulty, you painstakingly made your way back inside and busied yourself with making tea. Once the kettle was hovering over the fire stove, you set aside two teacups and a little saucer with scones. It wasn’t likely that your husband would have enough appetite to munch on some sugary treat, but you were still trying to convince him to drink some tea. He was so quiet these days, so subdued. Up until a couple of months ago, he had still been his mischievous, playful self. His eyes always smiling at you, even when you bickered over small things; where did you put the stamps again?, he would ask you, exasperated that he seemed to forget all the time or, We should invite the children over more often, Christopher feels intimidated when we are alone and it is incredibly entertaining to watch. Christopher was your youngest son-in-law and your husband still teased him about the first time they met and the poor boy had tried his hand at introducing himself in Korean. His wife, your eldest daughter, had inherited a knack for pranking her husband, back then fiancé, more often than not using elements from her father’s Korean heritage that obviously went over the young man’s understanding.

The kettle whistled and you put everything on a tray to take it to your bedroom. It was a very sunlit room, the most luminous of the cottage, with windows lining the south-east part of the property. The wallpaper was a lively yellow flowery print, worn in certain places from the sun and bright and striking on some others. An armchair was put against the furthest wall, memories of rocking your children to sleep coming to mind the second you saw it, next to a massive oak shelf filled to the brim with books, both in English and Korean. If there was something your husband wouldn’t stand for as your children grew up was them not knowing where they came from and the riches of the country of their ancestors. Only your daughter Areum had been to what used to be the Kingdom of Late Joseon up until ten or so years ago, but even you, having been born in Plymouth, felt somehow part of that distant country. The centre of the room was dominated by a massive bed, the headboard and intricate pattern of forged iron, soft pillows supporting your husband’s body while he rested a few moments. Both of you knew those few moments were getting longer and longer, but no one mentioned it.

“I brought you tea, dear,” you said, leaving the tray on the nightstand and sitting on the bed. You leaned closer to your husband’s prone form, moving a few strands of grey hair away from his forehead. You found it funny, how after so many years, his hair refused to let go of the black colour it used to be, settling in a stubborn dark grey when he was fifty and never changing to white. He had also refused to cut it a while ago, and now it was getting closer and closer to the collar of his shirts. “Wake up a short while, my love. You need to be awake when the children get here.”

Groaning a bit, he opened his eyes and looked at you. As soon as he did, his face turned from a sombre and pained expression to the smile he always greeted you with.

“You know, Y/N,” he said and cleared his throat right away, straightening himself against the headboard, leaving a space for you to sit next to him. “had you not woken me up, I would have continued dreaming about the day we met happily.”

“I’m sorry I disturbed you, love. That was such a long time ago, do you still remember?”

“How can I not? I was the best day of my life.”

My father and I were set to arrive at Plymouth by mid-April, given that we had had to make a little detour to Massachusetts, but we didn’t expect to arrive at the beginning of May. Your father sent a letter telling us not to worry about our arrival, as he lived close to the harbour and would have no problem picking us up whenever he saw our boat beginning to dock. I still remember how nervous I was, coming to England and not speaking anything close to basic English, I was afraid I would be carnage to the old dogs of the docks, no matter what a big merchant my father was. After crossing the Atlantic, we arrived and just from the deck, my father pointed to where you and your father were standing.

You were so short, standing next to your father and not reaching his shoulder yet, and yet you were looking up at the boat, listening intently to how he explained something to you. And then you looked at me. I still don’t know what happened that day but it felt ethereal as if I already knew you and I was already madly, deeply in love with you. I could see your smile from the boat and my father would never stop reminding me in the following years how the first thing I said in English soil was “Have I seen an angel?”. You were so friendly from the first time we spoke to each other and even came to see me to our little room by the harbour with your books and your little sketches. Plymouth became a home to me thanks to you, you made a new country feel just like I felt in Joseon before we left.

“Oh, but I remember that day differently,” quietly, you interrupted him. He smiled tiredly and threaded a hand through your greying hair. You loved the feeling of him being caring and close to you. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you stuttered and were so shy I even thought you disliked me from the beginning.”

He chuckled as he tried to make himself a bit more comfortable in the bed, his back cracking and his lungs overworking themselves from the effort. Even if he was feeling bad, the second he turned to look at you, his eyes regained their spark and he kissed your forehead, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder.

“Why, I thought you were the finest woman I had ever seen. I even heard bells when you kissed my cheek later that week.”

“You Casanova,” you laughed, “I was already madly in love with you back then, I had to show everyone you were mine.”

He turned quiet, remembering those early days of your relationship, how you had been always together, when he would accompany you everywhere, under the pretence that his father had tasked him with keeping you company while the adults worked. You had been keeping correspondence while he studied English back home and him, being the strong-headed man he was, refused to return to England until he could properly talk to you. He would say back then that English didn’t make his native Korean any justice to tell you what he wanted to tell you.

“I proposed to you after that man insulted you for associating with me, remember?” he asked you.

“Kwangsu, please,” you saying his name was something rare. He was so fond using pet names and terms of endearment with you and your children your names were rarely called in the house, only when someone was in trouble or seriousness was needed, were those names called.

“No, I know you don’t like to talk about this because you think it upsets me, but I want to tell you, once again, how proud I was that day of calling you my friend. If I had any doubt that you were the bravest woman I knew, it was obliterated that day. I knew marrying you was the best decision I would ever make, and I am still amazed to this day.”

You had been waiting for Kwangsu to arrive back to your house from the harbour. Your father had been overjoyed when you told him your intentions of starting a courtship with him and so had been mister Yi. The two of you had been closer than blood since you had met two years prior and no one could doubt how strongly you felt for one another.

Someone had knocked at your door shortly after noon and thinking it was Kwangsu, you had run down the stairs and was unpleasantly surprised when Jack Richmond walked through the door, cane and walking coat in perfect condition and blond hair slicked back. He used to be your friend back when you were children until he had developed an attitude not many could stand. He seemed to think that only because his father owned the biggest training company in the city everything was his and everyone in town owed him respect. This attitude translated into his uncomfortable obsession with you, not so much unpleasant as it was unwelcomed. He would drop by unannounced, demand that you accompany him on one of his many strolls through Hoe Park, take you back to his immense house for tea with his mother and many other things that were not entirely tiresome if they weren’t coming from Richmond. Today, of all days, his presence was particularly tiresome and you itched with the want to run out of the door and go find Kwangsu. As soon as you saw Jack’s face, though, your every thought dissolved into weariness. He seemed angry and unsettled, twisting his neck in every direction, in search of something that obviously wasn’t there. If you hadn’t been starting to worry, you would have laughed at the perfect ostrich impression he was gifting you with.

“Where is that yellow friend of yours?” he asked, foregoing all courtesy and jumping straight to the reason for his impromptu visit. Which made you incredibly angry.

“What did you just say?” you demanded, livid on behalf of Kwangsu. How dare he, from his high and fragile pedestal, to speak such ill words of the person you held most dear?

“Ah!” he ignored you, looking over your head as the sound of the main door closing reached you across the parlour. “It seems I needn’t had worried, your shadow just arrived! It’s my lucky day!”

He brushed past you, making you lose your footing and grab for dear life at the bannister ascending to the second floor for balance. Jack was tall, slim and sharp and yet, he didn’t reach Kwangsu’s jaw when he tried to face him head-on. He was at an obvious disadvantage and he didn’t seem pleased when he realised it was so, his nostrils flaring and his brow creasing past the point of possibility. His shoulders straightened and his breathing became shorter and swallow.

Kwangsu, on the contrary, was calm and collected. He didn’t seem faced at all, his posture relaxed as he took on the other man’s stand. His feet moved a mere millimetre, slightly separated and firmly planted on the floor, making you remember that time he had told you how he had been taught martial arts since he could walk. In the event that a fight broke out, you were sure which of the two would end up fairing worse.

“What, you think you can just arrive from wherever you crawled out and take our women?” Jack was livid without reason. What did he care what the relationship between Kwangsu and you was? Apart from it being none of his business, he had managed to anger you past the point of reason.

You marched and walked in between the two men, your back to Kwangsu’s chest. If you stepped on Jack’s foot with excessive impetus, you would never recognise it.

“And according to you, whose property am I?” you asked, leaning back into Kwangsu and glaring at Jack through your lashes. If he thought he had the right to barge into your house and through ridiculous accusations left and right and lay a claim to you, he was sorely mistaken. “I must have lost the telegram telling me we were engaged to be married, Jack. Or is it that you are a long-lost member of my family to have a say in who I spend time with?”

His mouth turned into a deep frown and he screwed up his face in disgust. You could see the cogs inside of his head turning to figure out an appropriate comeback and coming back empty-handed.

“You are a good Englishwoman, Y/N,” he finally said, nothing better to voice. “I don’t know why you are wasting your time with this – this foreigner when you could be making connections for a good marriage.”

“Shove that good marriage of yours where the sun doesn’t shine, for all I care!” you retorted, as you saw your parents descend the staircase down to the parlour, surprised faces showing their confusion, but still they frowned and shot suspicious looks at Jack when they felt the tense atmosphere in the room. “Kwangsu is a thousand times the man that you are and if you insist to continue spewing your disrespectful propaganda, I am in the obligation of telling you that our association has finished today.”

Kwangsu took one of your hands in his and squeezed as your father shoed the dandy out of the door and your mother hugged you. None of you had ever cared highly for the Richmonds and thanks to what you did that day, you wouldn’t be forced to stand their company anymore.

“I didn’t last the week without asking you to marry me, did I?” said now your husband, hugging you tight to his chest.

“Oh no, you didn’t. and if you had I would have done something very indecorous and proposed myself,” you answered back with the same retort you did whenever you talked about that time. He loved how you weren’t the type to sit back and let things happen to them, much preferring to take the reins and make those things happen.

You lapsed into silence again as the shadows flickered around the room, highlighting parts of the wallpaper with brighter patches of light. Little by little the both of you drifted off to sleep and dreamed of the life you’d had. He woke you up with a coughing fit a couple of hours later and you painstakingly cleaned the beads of sweat from his forehead. He then asked you to help him change his sleeping shirt and trousers so that he could hug your grandchildren when they arrived. With a little too much effort on your part, he changed and settled back into the pillows, looking at you with guilty eyes. He had always been a very independent and dependable man, who would rather take care of everyone around him than being taken care of. As fate had it, he was destined to depend on you now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you admonished him sweetly. “For every time you’ve depended on me, you’ve taken care of me a thousand.”

“I just find it difficult to make you worry so much,” he whispered, taking an iron hold of your hand. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “Guilt is eating away at me because I am leaving you behind, my love. I swore a long time ago that we would be forever.”

With a tired smile, you got closer to him and kiss his forehead. You had never had this conversation before, but you had known it was coming. He started looking at you with that guilty look the second the doctor had said there was nothing else to do except wait for the inevitable. He had been set on being as careful around you as he could be, not wanting you to exert yourself on his behalf.

“We both know forever is just a fancy young people tell each other, Kwangsu,” you smiled. If these were to be your husband’s last memories of you, you would make sure he remembered you smiling, if not happy. “We’ve had a great life together. Three wonderful children and so much love. I don’t regret anything.”

“Still,” he stubbornly retorted. It would be easier to sway a mountain than this man’s will. “I don’t like leaving you here in this house alone. We built it together and I thought we would have more time to share it. Why must I leave you when I would like to share a thousand more years with you?”

“Do you remember what I told you the day Soyeon was born? If you don’t remember that is the day in both our lives I depended the most on you.”

Frowning he nodded. You knew he remembered. As the years passed, he may have forgotten many things, but never that day.

“I nearly lost you both. I don’t think I’ll be able to forget it.” His face had turned ashen as the memories flooded him and it made you feel a little guilty at having provoked such reaction. Your intention was giving him fond memories to distract him while your children got to the cottage, but his mood had changed so suddenly you hadn’t thought it through.

“That day we got our Soyeonie, we became a family Kwangsu. I had never seen you so happy as the moment I woke up and you were holding her.” His eyes were now looking at you but he was very far away, maybe that day forty years ago when you had welcomed your first child into your hearts. “I still remember clearly how terrified you were when she fell off the tree in the garden one summer and she came back skipping, her mouth bleeding and her baby tooth held proudly on her fist.”

“That one was a calamity!” he said, letting go a strong laugh, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “It is one of the biggest mysteries of humanity how we survived her childhood. She was always bleeding and giving us a heart arrest after another.”

“Yun wasn’t so bad, he was just happy following her around,” you remembered, seeing in your mind a pair of small children. A dark-haired girl with a sweet pink dress stained with mud and her hair going in every direction, and a baby boy waddling behind her, trying to keep up and getting dirt all over his short trousers in the process.”

“Yet neither of them gave us as many headaches as Areum did fifteen years ago,” he sighed, even if those days were a fond memory now, at the time it had seemed terrible and dangerous. “To fall in love with Yun’s friend and go back to Joseon when the situation was as bad as it was.”

Your youngest daughter, Areum was eighteen when she met Hongjoong, your son’s friend. He had been living in Joseon up until he turned sixteen and was sent by his father to help manage the branch of their trading company in England. Yun and Hongjoong had hit it off instantly and Areum had been captivated the second she saw the young boy. She would be found sighing in corners, looking out of windows when the boys arrived at the cottage from Plymouth in summer. The young man was bound to notice and it happened the year he decided to go back to his home country and help his father with their boat company seeing the Japanese threat getting closer and closer. In a fit of what she labelled courage and you labelled stupidity, Areum had left with him without telling you and had married when they arrived at Joseon. After that little stunt had followed many letters, getting scarcer and more worrisome as the years went by. It was early 1910 when they had arrived out of nowhere, with their son on tow, telling the news of how the Japanese had taken over and they had decided that returning to you was the best option for their family.

“Grandpa!” screamed a little voice, followed by the slam of a door and many adult voices admonishing the younger ones.

A huge smile illuminated your husband’s face and he sat upright in the bed with more energy than he had displayed in the last months. He was brimming with happiness at the mere laughter of your youngest grandson who, at six, was the biggest calamity the walls of the cottage had seen. Knowing how much you’d had to deal with his mother and her siblings, you weren’t really in agreement with how much Kwangsu validated the child, but you wouldn’t say anything. The door to the bedroom opened and in poured many dark heads and some slightly lighter. Your grandchildren all approached the bed and smothered their grandfather in love while your children stayed standing by the door, shocked to see their father is such a state. They must have remembered him as the energetic, happy and generous father they had last seen at Christmas, not this weathered and tired old man, laying on the bed, his face ashen and his bones noticeable through his skin.

Your eldest daughter, Soyeon, approached you, setting a hand on your shoulder and smiling wearingly at you. That gesture was enough to tell you how much they had missed you both and how much they were hurting too.

“Mother wants me to study so much!” was saying Yun’s daughter. At fifteen, she was an exact copy of her aunt Soyeon, a little explosive body and a personality to match. If it were up to her, she would be out of the house exploring everything she could find, including the harbour and the docks, which was no place for a young lady her age, according to her mother.

“Your mother wants you to be a learned young lady, don’t you want to be able to outwit your cousins?” asked Kwangsu, knowing exactly what needed to be said, as always. She was your only granddaughter and she would do anything to get ahead of her cousins and prove to them “what a girl could do”. Usually what a girl could do included swimming, playing polo and any other sporting activity they told her she couldn’t participate in, but it seemed that now that would also include studying, judging from the determinate frown on her face.

The hours after the arrival of your children passed happily. All your grandchildren had something to tell you, their parents complaining about their choice of spouse in the case of the older ones as your husband had done with your sons-in-law when he had been in their place. At some point, between laughter and witty remarks, the younger ones had drifted off to the garden to catch insects while their parents and older siblings went around bringing out chairs to take the evening tea in the sunlight. Kwangsu had asked you to open the curtains a bit wider so he could see your family enjoying themselves in the garden and you had, joining him on the bed again after and laying against the headboard while he settled against the pillows.

“I know now what you meant before,” his whispered, his eyes looking at you, reflecting the young boy you met in the docks all those years ago. “They make everything worth it. I have no regrets.”

His eyes gave a last determinate glint, memorising every corner of your face and he kissed the hand caressing his cheek. He relaxed, his body a dull weight against your side and the both of you listened to the laughter of your family as the shadows were growing and the light turned dimer.

“I love you,” he whispered and when you looked down his chest had stopped moving.

Keeping the tears at bay and through the unbearable knot on your chest, you tried to breathe in deeply and that air escaped your lungs in a strangled sob. His face was relaxed and he looked at peace. How were you going to live your life without him?

“Wait for me,” you whispered back and stood up to search for your children.

He had been waiting for a while, sitting at the bottom of the imposing bridge. He didn’t remember much but the place was oddly familiar and he just knew he mustn’t cross the bridge. He had seen how the trees moved to the soundless music of the river, how the dark sand had been covered by snow and turned even warmer. He had tried to see his reflection in the waters of the river but had never gotten close enough. There was always something that caught his fancy and took his attention away from the water. One day, the stars had started a dance overhead that kept him mesmerised for what only looked like a second. He had dropped his head after and realised the trees had withered. Or was it only an illusion, for it seemed that nothing withered in this land. Time was also a strange concept. He felt like he had been walking for an eternity when he reached the bridge and the time he had been here having passed fleeting and short. The days and nights succeeded each other faster than they should have, had he been still living. Even if the red construction promised oblivion and a cease of this boredom, he still sat upon the wooden steps. It was night, and the stars shined brighter than the brightest sun in multicoloured patterns, so close to him he could feel their coldness in his whole being. And then, in between the stars appeared another figure, clear and almost ethereal. Her hair flying around her body in swift breaths and he stood up. He knew her, he had been waiting for her. No words were needed, he wasn’t even sure if words were possible here. He just hugged her to him with the strength of all those centuries he had spent without her. And together, they crossed the bridge.

to be continued x

#bangtanarmynet #mabel-k3 #jeon jungkook #jungkook reincarnation #bts reincarnation #bts reincarnation fic #bts fic #jungkook #requests open #open requests #jiah:r.txt #dreamcatcherjiah

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legumelupin · 4 years

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Cake Week!

here it is! the first chapter of this story that i love so much but is ruining my life! and here it is on ao3! it’s over 11k so please enjoy

WEEK 1 — CAKE

“It’s the moment every dessert lover, every pastry lover, really any kind of bake lover has been waiting for. The tent is staked and there are 12 new bright-eyed and bushy-tailed amateur bakers ready to battle it out. These bakers are some of the finest in the United Kingdom and were hand-selected out of thousands of applicants.

“They practiced for months and months to perfect new and old skills to take on a new set of challenges. Original signatures, grueling technicals, and spectacular showstoppers that are all made to push the baker's creativity and determination to the edge. Who will come out victorious? And who will collapse under a soggy bottom?

“This season, the bakers will be judged by none other than the lovely baking queen of Scotland, Minerva McGonagall. She’s hard to impress and incredibly blunt but boy does she make spectacular ginger biscuits. Her co-judge is the man who looks great for his age and who’s palate ranges from lemon sherbert to cockroach cookies. That’s right, it’s the ever-serene Albus Dumbledore. But the bakers had better watch out, our dear Dumbly isn’t afraid to shatter hopes and dreams. And as always, this season will be hosted by myself, Horace “Sluggy” Slughorn, and the large and in charge, Rubeus Hagrid.

“For their first week, our brand new bakers will have to overcome the woes of cake week. That means avoiding dry sponges, merengues that aren’t whipped properly, and batter that is over’werked’ as our dear Minerva would say.

“Welcome to Season 7 of the Great British Bake Off!”

Remus tied the apron around his waist, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he was still processing where exactly he was. He was in The Tent! The people in charge of the Great British Bake Off chose his application as one of the ones to be a part of the next season. Him! Remus John Lupin! What the fuck? What were they thinking? What was he thinking? He had let his mother convince him into applying, citing his bread and his knack for precision as qualities that could help him. He just never thought he would be here, ever. But he was!

He took a look around, noting all the cameras and feeling his stomach start to twist itself into a knot a bit. Oh gods, what in the world was he thinking? He’d be on TV and chances are he’d make a fool of himself for everyone to see! He thought of the day the camera crew had shown up to his family’s small cottage just outside of Cardiff. He had been maybe even more nervous then than he was now considering how intimate the whole ordeal was. They just followed him around for a few hours and had him hang in the kitchen with his mother while his father sat at the counter reading the paper. They followed him to his job at a bookshop just inside of town and he talked about his dream to go to university to study literature. If he didn’t think too hard about it, being in The Tent didn’t seem so bad anymore.

And then one of the Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore walked in. Gods, he wished he packed a joint in his bag for after. Or even his pack of cigs. He was going to need it afterward judging by how hard his legs were shaking. He looked to the workstation across from him and found a woman with long, red hair and he remembered her vaguely from the little mingling session the producers of the show hosted for contestants the day before. Remus did his best to socialize but he mostly kept to himself, thinking about the book that was waiting for him on his train ride home. But looking at her now, she was hard not to remember with hair like that and green eyes that pierce him even from the distance he’s at.

She caught his eye and offered him a kind smile that he returned easily, feeling a bit better. He could see the worry lines etched on the side of her mouth. Honestly, Remus should have been paying more attention to the competition if he wanted to win but he’d been so inside his head that he didn’t even remember any of their names let alone what they looked like. All he remembered from the night before was the piercing blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore and the raucous laughter of Rubeus Hagrid. He was so shell-shocked that all he could do was tell himself not to panic and have a drink with a few of the other contestants that he didn’t remember the names of.

But now, here he was, smiling at the girl with flaming red hair, waiting for the camera crew to give the cue for them to start. They’d gotten the opening shots with all the new bakers lined up outside the tent and all of them walking into the tent for the first time. Remus was almost positive that his gaze was downcast the entire time. It was almost like he was asking to leave on the first episode but in reality, he did really want to win. He was terrified and an anxious disaster. But he was a terrified and anxious disaster with a passion to win.

“Psst, hey!” a voice whispered behind him and Remus raised an eyebrow, turning his head to find the most gorgeous man his bisexual eyes have ever seen. Remus suppresses a groan. Why did Gorgeous-Man have to get his attention before the first task? As if it wasn’t going to be hard enough before, all Remus would be able to think about now were those stormy grey eyes and long, very soft-looking black hair. He would definitely overbake his sponge.

Sirius Black was very nervous. He was incredibly proud of himself for making it onto the show but he was also still in disbelief. Even when he was standing at his workstation for their first bake of cake week, he didn’t believe he was actually going to be on his favorite TV show. The night before hadn’t done anything to soothe his nerves or let him know that this was actually real but he did meet a really wonderful bloke by the name of James Potter who was also a contestant on the show. They hit off on their first interaction and hit the pub right after the little event had ended. Sirius felt he’d made a friend forever in the guy.

“Hey man, this is crazy right?” a brown-skinned guy with unruly black hair and kind, hazel eyes said, gesturing to the large white tent that was just down the hill from the little area of the grounds the newest contestants were all gathered in. He looked to be around Sirius’s age. “Never thought I’d be here but I guess they liked my application enough even though I made a complete fool of myself,” the guy snorted and Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“I suppose they just wanted a village fool and they thought you’d do the best job,” Sirius snarked and the guy looked affronted but to the point of mocking him.

“You say that as if it isn’t a high honor, young sir!” the man proclaimed and Sirius cracked a grin.

“I have to say, kind fellow, I’m going to put up a hell of a fight to be crowned the title of fool before you,” Sirius jested back and the guy laughed heartily.

“I’m James Potter,” he extended his hand and Sirius took it in his own.

“Sirius,” the pale male answered and James quirked an eyebrow but didn’t let go of his hand.

“Course I’m serious, why would I lie about my name?” James asked and Sirius snorted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” he replied and James just leveled him with a small glare.

“About what, mate? You haven’t even said anything,” James shot back and Sirius rolled his eyes.

“No, you oaf. My fucking name is Sirius,” he laughed and James’s face fell for a second before it broke out into a large grin.

“That’s right funny, Sirius. You can make a lot of jokes with that,” James smiled and Sirius laughed.

“Just did, mate,” Sirius remarked and James didn’t stop grinning.

“Wanna grab a pint after this?” James asked and Sirius knew. He just knew. This guy was gonna be his best friend after this night.

“Sounds like a plan to me. I’d get out of here right now if it weren’t the set of fucking Bake Off,” Sirius murmured and James grinned at him again.

“Is someone nervous?”

“As if you aren’t. Or I suppose you’re too daft to feel nervous.”

“Oi! Now that’s just rude!”

“You didn’t even understand when I introduced myself!”

“Your name is fucking Sirius! Pardon me for not knowing very many people named after celestial bodies!”

“Well, you’re pardoned! Happy?”

“Incredibly, good sir!”

They hit the pub together after the party as promised and got properly shitfaced and Sirius was sure that he would want to remember that night forever. Bake Off was already getting his mind off his shit life but this bloke, this James Potter, seemed to be a forever friend.

James was sat at the station on Sirius’s right and they kept glancing at each other. Both would be lying if they said they weren’t nursing a bit of a hangover which is not ideal considering it was their first day on the set of a baking TV show that would be broadcasted all over England. James pointed to the woman who sat in front of him and made a face at Sirius that indicated that he was absolutely smitten with this woman. He’d never even talked to her. Sirius rolled his eyes and shook his head. James glared at him and stuck out his tongue, and then feigned absolute hurt when Sirius didn’t change the look on his face.

Sirius could only roll his eyes again but with a smile this time. He turned his attention to the guy sitting in front of him who was wearing a sweater that was definitely not appropriate for this fucking disgusting weather. Sirius knew it wasn’t his place to say shit to the guy but holy fucking hell it was as hot as Satan’s balls out! So, like a typical Black (and he was well aware of his cousin’s presence in the tent which was kind of crazy but he tried not to think too hard about it), he said something.

“Psst, hey!” he whispered loudly and thankfully, the guy heard him and turned around briefly. Sirius’s gay panic went haywire at that moment. He forgot about the sweater all at once and was stuck between a sea of honey brown and a forest of glorious summer green and freckled cheeks with a couple of faint scars running across a beautiful nose. He had fucking freckles and heterochromia. Oh gods, he was toast. Pun intended.

“Yeah?” the guy asked, his voice sounded strained. How had Sirius not seen him last night? Or this morning? Was he seriously so far up James’s ass and happy to have a friend that he didn’t even notice this hot string bean amongst the ten other contestants? Yes, yes he was. But that wasn’t an excuse!

“Oh, um, I was just… Mate, how the hell are you wearing that thing right now?” Sirius asked incredulously and the man’s face fell to be quickly unimpressed.

“I've been cold on the inside since I’ve been ten,” he deadpanned and Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. “Basically I’m depressed,” he continued after before making to turn back front.

“Wait, you’re not even gonna tell me your name Mr. I- Wear -a -Sweater -in -the -Dead -of -Summer?” Sirius quipped and the guy actually managed a smile. Sirius groaned internally. No one should be allowed to look that hot!! And he was just fucking smiling!! At this rate, Sirius couldn’t even bring himself to think about fucking cake (unless it was this guy’s cake, if you know what he’s saying. Wink wink).

“Remus Lupin. Care to tell me yours? Mr. I-Have-No-Manners-and-Can’t-Recognized-a-Depressed-Bastard?” the guy snarked back, not losing the amused look on his beautiful face.

Sirius barked out a laugh causing the other contestants to look over to them and Sirius feared of being shushed so he quickly said, “Sirius Black.”

Remus nodded at him, a small smile still piquing on his lips before turning back around. And finally, the set fucking called for action. Now, what was the cake he’d been practicing for weeks?

Marlene McKinnon was an absolute ball of nerves and it was obvious to everyone around them, too. They couldn’t sit still. One minute they were bouncing their leg up and down, another they were wringing their hands, another their fingers were twisting around their long chestnut brown ponytail, and another minute they were braiding that ponytail. But before they knew it, Sluggy and Hagrid were welcoming all of them to Cake Week and giving the prompt, which they already knew, before the legendary send-off:

“On your marks,” said Hagrid.

“Get set!” Sluggy cheered.

“BAKE!” they both rang out together and it was like Marlene blacked out.

Their adrenaline took over and they raced around her work station, grabbing sugar, eggs, and flour for their orange zest angel food cake. Their workstation was one of the first two from the tent’s entrance which they were honestly thankful for because that meant the judging and hosting teams came to them first. And they wanted as little distractions as possible.

“Marlene, what kind of angel food cake are you making for us today?” Sluggy asked, peering around her workstation. They looked up and saw the calculating gaze of Albus Dumbledore on their batter in the mixer and the stern eyes of Minerva McGonagall boring into their own. Their knees wobbled and they fought to keep themself upright. Minerva was an inspiration for them and now the woman was going to be judging their bakes.

“Oh, um.. I’m going to be making an orange zest angel food cake with chocolate glaze and fresh whipped cream,” they said while trying to keep their voice from shaking.

“Sounds quite lovely,” Albus said serenely.

“Yes, I expect a strong orange flavor in your cake,” Minerva insisted curtly but with a small peak of a smile.

“Of course! I hope it comes through,” Marlene smiled and they knew that this was where her little introduction would be placed in post-production of the show. The production crew followed them around Cambridge and talked about how they worked as a physician's assistant for a nephrologist and lived with their two cats.

They were quite happy with their life at the moment, they kept up with their family who didn’t live that far away and their job was fulfilling. But they were a hopeless romantic and were on the lookout for a lovely lady to woo or for one to woo them.

They glanced around their station once the judges and hosts moved on and caught the eye of a dark-skinned girl named Dorcas Meadowes that they met yesterday along with a red-head named Lily Evans and another woman with mousy brown hair named Alice. Dorcas gave them a small smile before turning back to her own bake and Marlene felt their cheeks heat up a bit and really hoped no cameras were pointed at them.

The bakers had two hours for the first bake of the season and Marlene thought everything was going well. Their egg whites whipped up well, they zested many oranges, everything seemed to be going alright. They couldn’t say the same for the man across from them. He had long blond hair and a permanent sneer on his face that said he thought he was better than everyone. Marlene remembered him from the night before and rolled their eyes then just like they were rolling them now.

He fucked up his egg whites it seemed like and was obviously disgruntled as the camera crew moved to his station for what kind of angel cake he was making. Marlene marked him as a weak link in their head but they didn’t dwell on it too long as their egg whites weren’t yet stiff peaks. They kept beating them.

Marlene was a whirlwind of movements for the next hour and a half until Hagrid announced they all had a half-hour left and they felt absolutely overwhelmed despite actually being in a pretty good place in their bake. Their sponge was cooling and it looked well-baked but not over baked, their chocolate glaze was almost ready and all they had left was their whipped cream and to slice some oranges as a garnish.

“Looks like he broke your focus,” the woman behind Marlene’s station smirked but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh yeah,” Marlene answered with a breathy laugh.

“Sorry if that was weird, you’re just in front of me and you’ve been in the zone the entire time. It’s admirable, I hope it’s all going well for you,” the woman smiled sweetly and Marlene smiled back at her. They noticed all around the tent, bakers were conserving and bantering with each other and they hadn’t said a word since the very beginning.

“No, it’s not weird and thank you. I hope it’s going well for you too, this is all so scary,” Marlene answered and the woman smiled at them more. She didn’t seem too much older but she was definitely on the older side of the contestants. Almost everyone else looked to be Marlene’s age.

“Yeah but think about it, if you didn’t deserve to be here, you wouldn’t be,” she reminded Marlene and the person nodded. “I’m Andromeda, by the way. It’s nice to meet you and hopefully, there’ll be a friendly face around here over the next few weeks, assuming I make it through,” she said softly and Marlene nodded again.

“I’m Marlene, it’s good to meet you too,” they answered before turning back to their bake, making sure their chocolate glaze wasn’t burning or anything.

There was a minute left before they could even realize and their cake was glazed, their whipped cream was cold and sitting like a cloud atop the cake, and they were just finishing slicing their oranges. They chanced a glance up and around and saw the blond man across from them struggling. His sponge looked overdone and his lemon glazed looked too runny. They could only hope that the orange was strong enough in their cake to compete with their chocolate glaze and cut through it.

“Bakers, time is up! Please step away from your bakes and move your Angel Food cakes to the end of your table!” Sluggy called out to the group and almost simultaneously, everyone out down what they were doing and stepped back. Marlene was satisfied with how their cake looked, they really only wanted it to taste good now. They took a look around at everyone else’s.

Sirius had dried batter on his face and his usually pristine hair was rather disheveled but his angel food cake looked delicious, at least in his eyes. It was a vanilla sponge with a sweet cranberry sauce running down the sides with strawberries on top. He looked forward at Mr. Remus Lupin’s cake and groaned. His looked fucking delicious and it looked like he made a chocolate angel cake sponge? The fucking drama of this guy! He looked over at James who looked very proud of his key lime pie inspired back and he had to admit it was impressive.

“We got this in the bag,” the man whispered-shouted across the way, his arms crossed proudly over his chest. The girl in front of him who he was gaping at two hours ago turned and gave him a slightly disgusted look and he noticed and grinned at her. “Like what you see?”

“Aha, you wish,” she sneered and Sirius decided she wasn’t his favorite person. What was her deal? Sure James was a little cocky but so what?

“Oh come on, Red. You don’t think my sponge looks good?” he asked with an easy grin and the girl rolled her eyes before facing forward. Judging was starting.

Remus’s internal panic alarms were ablaze. He was proud of his bake for sure but it wasn’t up to his usual standard in his opinion. There was a good chance the sponge was dry on his vanilla one and his chocolate one had a very good chance of being underbaked. His pastry cream was set well enough but he was nervous all the same. All he could hope for was that it tasted better than how he imagined it did.

He watched Albus and Minerva make the rounds with Hagrid by their side from behind him. They were tasting a greasy-haired guy’s cake and they seemed kind of meh with it like it didn’t do anything special for them and from what he could tell, it was just a normal sponge with some powdered sugar and strawberries on top.

“I’d like to see more,” Minerva said, a tone of disappointment in her voice. The guy just gritted his teeth and nodded shortly before turning to look forward.

The judges moved onto the guy in front of the one they just judged who’d been talking to Sirius just a minute ago. He looked very proud and boastful of his bake and with good reason it seemed as the judges loved it and the guy who was judged first seethed very visibly, glaring daggers at the back of Sirius’s friend’s head. But Remus’s view was obscured when the judges crossed over to Sirius’s station. He could hear everything they were saying.

“Right, Sirius my boy, this is vanilla angel food cake with cranberry sauce, right?” Albus asked and Sirius nodded while chewing his lip. He was fucking hot when he chewed his lip. Gods, Remus was so fucking bent for this guy and he had one conversation with him if it could’ve even been counted as a conversation. And he was a dick during the whole thing! How could he be a dick to the one attractive guy who’s talked to him in months? Remus held back a sigh as Minerva and Albus tasted Sirius’s cake.

“Hm, that is scrummy. The cranberry is sharp and tart which is an excellent contrast to the sweetness of your sponge,” Minerva attested and Sirius’s face broke out into a smile. It was radiant and Remus never wanted him to stop.

“Yes this is delicious, thank you,” Albus commented, giving a slow nod to Sirius.

“Thank you,” he said softly, the smile never melting off his face.

As Minerva and Dumbledore moved onto the person behind Sirius with Hagrid, Remus caught Sirius’s attention. “Nice one! Looks great,” he smiled and if it were possible, Sirius’s smile grew even bigger. Remus’s heart clenched because he made that happen.

“Thanks, mate! Yours looks really good, a chocolate angel food cake is impressive,” Sirius whispered back and Remus flashed him a smile this time.

“Thanks!”

Remus faced forward again and waited for the judges to come to his station with a large amount of anxiety that grew with every second. He resisted the urge to bite his fingernails to shreds as he knew the cameras were still around and taking shots of people other than those who had the judges at their table. But Remus needn’t wait very long as the next person they came to was him. He sat up straighter when Hagrid addressed him.

“Remus, what have you made fer the judges t’day?” he asked and Remus swallowed loudly.

“Uh, it’s alternating chocolate and vanilla angel food cake with pastry cream in between the layers, topped with fresh whipped cream,” he said quickly but his voice didn’t waver thankfully. He was a mess.

“It looks very neat and your pastry cream seems to have set very nicely. Quite ambitious for the first bake of the season, let’s just hope you pulled it off,” Minerva remarked but there was a shine in her eyes.

“Yes, I hope I did too,” he said softly as they cut into his sponges and took a piece onto the plate set in front.

“The vanilla sponge looks well baked,” Albus commented, tapping his fork lightly over it. “But I fear you may have misjudged the timing for your chocolate sponge, it appears a bit underdone,” he remarked and Remus nodded. He figured. “Best to try it.”

The two judges put a piece of his cake into their mouths and looked thoughtful for a moment. “These flavors are wonderful. And it’s quite a feat that you got your chocolate sponge to rise and still have such a profound flavor. The pastry cream is a nice texture too,” Minerva commented and Remus smiled at her.

“Yes, this is very good indeed however your chocolate sponge is underbaked,” Albus continued and Remus nodded.

“Right, sorry about that,” he murmured.

“This is a very fine cake you have, Remus,” Albus finished and Remus tipped his head in thanks.

“I’ll jus’ be taking a piece o’ that,” Hagrid said sneakily, taking a piece of chocolate sponge with him and Remus snickered, gesturing for him to take as much as he pleased.

“Oi, mate, that’s amazing!” Sirius whispered from behind him and Remus turned to face him, both of them wearing dazed and happy smiles. Honestly, it went better than Remus had expected it to go for their first bake and he felt ready for the technical, though he didn’t want to be too cocky just yet.

When the judges got around to that bloke Lucius, the one across from Marlene, they couldn’t help but roll their eyes despite the large number of nerves setting their entire body on fire. Oh gods, they were the last to be judged and from what they were hearing, the majority of the others had done really well. The bar was too high!! Too high!! Marlene wished they were high right about now but instead they had to listen to Minerva and Albus be disappointed with the blond git’s bake. At least that was something positive for them. They had heard high praises for Lily and Dorcas’ bakes and they really enjoyed Alice’s flavors. Marlene thought for a second that Andromeda was going to get a Minerva McGonagall handshake and here they were with just a plain old orange-flavored sponge and some chocolate sauce.

They barely even registered when Hagrid addressed them due to never-ending nerves but stood up straight once they realized, watching Minerva and Albus inspect their sponge.

“Looks to be a very good bake and the chocolate has a beautiful shine to it,” Albus remarked and Marlene smiled a bit.

“Yeah let’s just hope the orange came through,” Minerva replied before putting her fork in her mouth. “And it does,” she added immediately after. “Beautifully, too,” she continued and Marlene’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“That’s a very lovely sponge you have there,” Albus praised and Marlene grinned at him.

“Thank you,” they said quietly and the group moved away.

There was a flurry of movements but they were told to leave the tent so they could prepare for the technical and so the camera crew could get a few testimonials from the contestants. They called out a few names of who they wanted.

“Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, and Alice Fortesque,” one of the crew members shouted. “Everyone else, please exit the tent. You may wonder the grounds and enjoy something from the buffet but you are due back in a half-hour for the next bake!”

Marlene hurried out of the tent and into the fresh air, feeling as though they were able to breathe for the first time that morning. Gods, if that was what it was going to be like for the next ten weeks, they didn’t know if they could make it! That was one bake and they were already knackered! They would really need to pack a joint with them for their travels back home if that’s what it was going to be like.

“Hey, Marls! Where’re you headed?” a voice that she recognized as Dorcas shouted from a few meters away. They looked up and saw the dark-skinned girl with pale-skinned Lily by her side, both with wide smiles and welcoming hand gestures.

“Nowhere in particular!” they called back as they headed to join them on their walk.

They talked and gossiped about the first challenge. Lily ranted about the guy behind her, James Potter, being an absolute git who was too cocky for his own good. And while she did sound truly exasperated by this man, Marlene could also tell she fancied him even if it was just a bit. Lily didn’t seem like the type to appreciate being told this though so Marlene kept a tight-lip and settled for exchanging knowing glances with Dorcas who couldn’t hold back the smirk from her face. Gods, Marlene was absolutely smitten with that look and they couldn't even admit to themself. They wouldn’t be surprised if the word hypocrite was emboldened on their tanned forehead.

Sirius was a bit bummed that Remus got called for a testimonial. Not that he wanted to give one or anything but he was hoping he could drag the guy along with him and James during their break. James was great company though, he always had something to say and it was usually hysterical. It’s only been 24 hours since meeting the guy but it felt like they’d been friends since secondary school, if not before.

“Hey, mate, you there?” James’ voice filtered into Sirius’s thoughts and he snapped his head towards the man.

“Huh?” he managed gracefully.

“I said that bloke sitting in front of you seemed pretty cool,” James repeated, not letting on if he noticed Sirius blatantly ignoring him for a minute.

“Oh, Remus?” Sirius perked up causing James’s eyebrows to raise by a fraction before shrugging.

“I suppose if that’s his name,” he jabbed and Sirius laughed a laugh that sounded to be that of a bark. James quite enjoyed it and thought it fit Sirius’s persona perfectly.

“It is. And yeah, he’s very cool. Talked with him for a bit before we started,” Sirius insisted and James quirked a smile.

“Wanna grab a nightcap tonight? We can invite this Remus character as well,” James offered and Sirius’s eyes shone brightly. He couldn’t help it. Remus was cute.

“Yeah, sure! Sounds great to me, honestly anything to stay away from home for the night is good for me,” Sirius grinned.

“Well if that’s the case, then you’ll just have to get too drunk to go home Mr. Black, causing me to insist you stay the night at my place so I can be sure you don’t sick up in your mouth and choke on it,” James grinned and Sirius grinned back. They looked like a right pair of scoundrels right then even if they had no intention of getting drunk enough to even feel their cheeks grow warm. They had the blasted show-stopper tomorrow! They couldn’t make fools of themselves just because they had a pint too many!

“Is that a challenge Mr. Potter?” Sirius poked and James laughed.

“Is that how you see it?”

“Perhaps.”

“I think you mean mayhaps,” James corrected and Sirius snorted.

“You’re fucking weird, Potter. That something you learned in Godric’s Hollow, some posh lingo or whatever?” Sirius taunted playfully and James scoffed.

“You’re one to talk about bloody posh, mate. Sirius Black, named after a fucking star and grew up in rich London. I look like a right plebeian standing next to you. I might as well get down on my knees and kiss your—“

“Alright, alright, you can shut it now.”

“Eh, didn’t go too far did I?”

“Absolutely not, you prick. I’m just annoyed you refuse to acknowledge your own poshness, even if it’s more eccentric and fucking loony.”

“I’m not loony.”

“You just told me to say mayhaps.”

“As a joke!”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure.”

“You better watch your tongue, Sirius Black, I’m not afraid to tell on you to Minerva McGonagall! We’re close personal friends!” Sirius erupted into laughter and James followed suit. The break didn’t seem to last long enough.

Remus stood back at his station rather disgruntled despite having gotten high remarks from the judges. But the attitudes of the two other guys chosen were just abysmal and Remus did not feed well off of negative energy. Thankfully, the girl Alice was an absolute sweetheart and he managed to occupy his waiting time talking with her and ignoring the two other assholes. However, when Alice went to give her shpiel on the first bake, he was left alone with Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, neither of which displayed any kindness.

“That old bat doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Lucius had snarled.

“Neither of them can appreciate true artistry,” Severus had implored and Remus rolled his eyes but his ears burned as the man continued, “Praising an underbaked chocolate sponge. How very soft. I suppose they feel bad with all those scars. Paints a very interesting picture.”

“Hmph, I have to agree. And with all the praise for that brown skin and that black girl,” Lucius had sneered. Remus could tolerate slander directed at him but he drew the line at any kind of racism.

“Hey, you better shut the fuck up,” Remus snarled as he turned around. “To be quite honest I couldn’t give a damn about your bitterness towards the judging but don’t go blaming it on others and don’t you dare bring anyone’s race into this. They have just as much of a right as you or I do and the fact they’re better than you makes you feel inferior. Well, I got news for you mate. You are inferior. And if I ever hear you badmouthing anyone for their race, I will fucking slug you where you stand,” he bit out quietly and without wavering. “Fucking trash,” he gritted out, spitting at Lucius’s feet and glaring at Severus before turning back to ignore them.

The pair behind him continued their conversation much more quietly then and Remus failed to hear any of it but it wasn’t too much longer before Alice came back and Lucius left. She could sense his anger but didn’t ask him about, choosing instead to ask about what he did for a living.

So there he stood, his arms tightly crossed over his chest, glaring daggers into the back of Lucius Malfoy’s head, waiting for the hosts and the judges to arrive, signaling the start of their first technical challenge.

“Psst, Remus,”.said a voice behind him and he really thought about ignoring the guy just because he was in a foul mood. But he relented anyway because he had a feeling that Sirius wouldn’t stop calling out to him until he answered. He turned.

“What?”

“Wanna grab a pint with me and James after we wrap up for the day?” he asked with a brilliant smile and expectant eyes. His heart melted a bit at the sight and he smiled softly. It took him a minute to register what the guy had asked him and then he felt his cheeks flush. He was asking him to hang out after? Him? Remus Lupin?

“James?” Remus asked without thinking or hesitating and Sirius pointed his thumb over to the guy at the station across the way. The man called James smiled a brilliant smile and waved enthusiastically. Remus snorted.

“Sure,” he answered with an easy smile before turning back forward to hide his burning cheeks. He managed to catch a glimpse of Sirius’s own burning cheeks though and the thought made him warm inside.

The technical was a disaster. At least it was for Sirius. He couldn’t be sure about anyone else but he was sure he fucked up his bake beyond repair. All his good graces from the signature challenge would go out the window because he would surely be crowned twelfth place and he would have to claw his way through the ashes during the showstopper just to stay in the competition past the first week. He was embarrassed and he was annoyed with himself for cracking under pressure. Surely he could’ve handled twelve miniature tres leches cakes, right? But no, not at all apparently! His whipped cream was running, his sponges well weak and didn’t hold well after being doused in milk and to top it off, he cut his finger when slicing the strawberries! No one was having a worse time than him, surely.

Except for maybe Marlene McKinnon who was almost in tears at how everything was turning out. How could it be that only an hour ago they were making perfect whipped cream and now it just wouldn’t stiffen? They were on their third attempt and there was only five minutes left in the challenge so if it didn’t work then, they would be serving naked, milky sponges and they absolutely loathed the sound of that. They beat their whipping cream and sugar harder.

Remus Lupin felt oddly calm during the technical. His sponge came out well or so it appeared and he had no way of testing it, his milk concoction was mixed well and his whipped cream wasn’t grainy. All was well at station Remus and he was quite proud of himself although he doesn’t have the self-confidence to believe he’d place even in the top three. But he was still proud of himself.

“Alright bakers, that’s the end of your first technical, if you could, please bring your tres leches up to the Gingham altar and place them behind your visage!” Sluggy proclaimed and everyone seemed to take a collective breath as they stepped back for the first time since starting. Thankfully, Remus had just finished setting his last strawberry atop his cakes and couldn’t help but be pleased as he brought up his platter to the front. He was seventh in the judging so he’d have to wait for Albus and Minerva to get to his bake but he didn’t seem to mind actually was a nice change of events from this morning. He began to fear that his lack of anxiety would be his downfall though and that he’d be taken by surprise and his tres leches would actually be terrible and his sponge would be cracked and dry.

He sat in an odd mixture of fear and calm. But he was sat next to Sirius so that was nice. Sirius looked upset and Remus searched for his photo which was second from the start and frowned. They certainly weren’t the prettiest but they didn’t look awful and as long as they tasted good, he would be fine.

“It’ll be alright, mate,” Remus whispered, trying to sound encouraging and Sirius just shrugged. Remus risked it. He took Sirius’s hand and held it. Yes, he was attracted to the man but also they were in this together. As much as Bake Off was a competition, they were still fighting the same battles and Remus would hate to see Sirius feel alone during this. Luckily, Sirius held on.

“Right,” Minerva said, catching their attention and looking over the bakes with scrutiny. “Let’s see how they did, shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the first bake which was behind the photo of a man Remus had never talked to.

They seemed to enjoy it enough but remarked that the cakes weren’t milky enough and Remus had to stop from blanching at the term used. Milky. Ew. Gross. But they moved onto Sirius’s and the man held Remus’s hand tighter.

“These look a little… disordered,” Albus said serenely. “But hopefully the flavor is good,” he continued as he and Minerva put a piece in their mouths and immediately hummed in delight.

“Quite delicious,” Minerva remarked and Albus nodded in agreement as they moved onto the next bake which was Severus fucking Snape’s.

They didn’t like it. Good.

Next was the red-headed woman across from Remus and they really seemed to like it, stating it almost near perfection. Next came a brown-haired woman that Sirius’s hand tensed at when they got to it, causing Remus to frown. He hadn’t seen the man interact with that woman at all. Interesting.

After the brown-haired woman (Remus should really learn all their names), they moved onto the black woman who was stationed in front of Remus and they also really enjoyed hers, and then it was Remus. He gripped Sirius’s hand a bit tighter.

“They all look very neat which is good, let’s just hope they taste as good,” Minerva remarked as she put a bite in her mouth, Albus following suit. They hummed in approval.

“Quite delicious,” Albus remarked. “This one is going to be hard to judge I can see,” he continued and Remus had to school his face from beaming. But Sirius gripped his hand tighter which made Remus squeeze back.

James was after Remus and he did well but he had thirteen inside of twelve. (Sirius thought James would say something like ‘Well I should get extra points, right? It could’ve been eleven instead of thirteen.’ Sirius would have replied, ‘I think you’re just shit at maths, mate.’) A tanned girl with chestnut brown hair was after James and like Sirius, they looked very messy but the flavor was good.

“The cream is a bit too runny for my taste,” Albus commented and Remus sighed. This is not easy for anyone and it was only going to get harder. Minerva and Albus were picky.

They moved onto Lucius’s which weren’t even topped with whipped cream which made Remus smirk, and then they headed onto Alice who’s were satisfactory it seemed. And they ended with another guy who appeared slightly mousy and even his picture on the altar conveyed a strong sense of panic. He did what Remus would describe as a ‘meh’ job.

And then the judging. Remus kept waiting for his name and he held onto Sirius’s hand tightly and he couldn’t tell who was sweating more. Unsurprisingly, Lucius was last, then Severus, the mousy-looking boy, named Peter, was tenth, followed by the person with the chestnut brown hair, named Marlene, was ninth, followed by the first guy, Frank, then Alice, the woman that made Sirius tense up was named Andromeda and she was sixth. Sirius tensed up again and stayed that way when he was announced to be fifth.

“Sirius, overall a good set of bakes, just a bit of a mess,” Albus noted and Sirius smiled with a nod.

James was fourth and then came the top three which hadn't registered yet that Remus was in. But he quickly realized as Sirius squeezed his hand tightly and Remus held his breath.

“In third, is this one,” Minerva said, gesturing to the bake with the photo of the redhead who’s station was across from Remus’s. “Lily, a really good bake the sponge could be just a bit wetter.”

“These two were really hard to decide between, it was a really a toss up but in second is this one,” Albus stated and Remus raised his hand. Second in the technical! What the fuck! Is this the same Remus he woke up as this morning?

“So that means Dorcas, you are first,” Minerva smiled at the woman’s who station was in front of Remus and Lily leant forward to congratulate her and so did the guy named Frank. She was shocked.

Remus, Dorcas, Snape, and Lucius all got called for testimonials and again, Sirius was bitter. They had a few more things to film just to wrap up the day but either way, he was going to get a pint with Remus and James. But gods, what a day! He had a pretty good signature and he did well in the technical! And he made friends with the hot guy who sat in front of him! Maybe Bake Off is exactly what Sirius needed to turn his life around and to start actually living happily and not in his family’s shadow. It’s only been two days and he already feels like a different person and as long as he doesn’t muck everything up with the showstopper, he feels pretty confident he’ll make it to the next week.

He was packing up his things and also taking out some things he would be using for biscuit week next week just as preparation when Remus finally came back over. “Hey, mate! You did bloody amazing!” Sirius said happily and Remus beamed at him.

“Thanks, Sirius! You did really well, too!” he answered and Sirius grinned.

“Oi, Remus! Remus Lupin!” shouted a voice from across the tent. It was the redhead Lily that James was absolutely smitten with already.

“What?” he asked, his face neutral as she stomped over to him, an unreadable expression clouding her face.

“You and Dorcas, are you two some kind of wizards or something?” she asked, sniffing afterward and Remus grinned at her.

“What, jealous?” he asked, poking a bit of fun but the reddening of his cheeks was absolutely noticeable and Sirius smiled carefully to himself as he watched the exchange.

“Jealous? Me? Absolutely not,” she scoffed. But she smiled after. “Congratulations, you and her seem really fantastic at baking.”

“Hey, you do too,” he answered softly and she smiled at him.

“Yeah well, I was only complimenting you to make you more comfortable so you’d let your guard down,” she shrugged and Sirius watched Remus roll his eyes.

The two of them almost seemed like him and James in the sense that they immediately hit it off. There was no bite behind their words or actions, they were just banting with each other. Sirius felt a green ugly monster want to rear its head in the back of his mind but he quickly shut the door on it. He did not know Remus and he certainly did not know if he was even into blokes. Sure they held hands during the judging of the technical but it was just a high stakes situation. It didn’t mean anything.

“You’re Welsh, aren’t you?” she asked him and Sirius saw the honey-haired man nod out of the corner of his eye. “Could tell from the accent, eh. Well, I’m from Cokeworth, you know in the midlands. I reckon the train comes by both our stops so if you want a friendly face to sit by tomorrow, just shoot me a text. And maybe we could grab a quick cuppa in town before shooting in the morning,” she offered and Remus seemed to light up at the suggestion. It left a warm feeling spreading in his chest.

“That’d be nice! Here, let me give you my number,” Remus answered and both of them pulled out their phones, exchanging numbers and laughed.

“I’m gonna name you Wolf McWolf in my phone,” Lily snorted and Remus playfully glared at her.

“Uncalled for, ginger,” Remus shot back. “Just for that, you will be Little Red to me,” he grinned deviously and she scoffed back at him.

“Hey, there chums!” James’s booming voice interrupted and Sirius was grateful. He was growing tired of watching the two of them flirt or whatever. Yes, he was bitter. Yes, he was a petulant child sometimes. It came with the territory, he was used to getting what he wanted and he wanted Remus. Gods, he’s a mess.

“Ugh, you,” Lily sneered but there was no real malice behind it, Sirius noted. “What is it that you want?”

“The lads and I were going to grab a pint when we wrapped up here. I suppose you wouldn’t want to join us, Evans?” James inquired, his eyes shining brightly and when she snorted, his face fell a bit.

“Not tonight, we have the showstopper tomorrow. It’s rather immature of you to get a drink after today, you couldn’t wait till tomorrow?” she pointed out and James shrugged.

“We could also go tomorrow if you wanted to join then,” the brown-skinned boy offered eagerly and Lily tried to stop the smile from growing on her face.

“Well, we��ll see four eyes. If the three of you make it through tomorrow, then I will think about grabbing a drink with you lot,” she snorted and James was back to full-on grinning.

“Oh I think she’s challenging us, mate,” Sirius finally remarked, glancing over at his new friend who nodded solemnly.

“It would appear so, perhaps tonight we should practice one more time at my place,” James offered and Sirius couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking.

“Alright, everyone! That’s a wrap! See you all bright and early tomorrow! 8 am sharp!” Sluggy called and all of the contestants broke apart and finished getting everything ready for tomorrow. And then he headed out with his new best friend and his new crush. Bake Off was getting interesting.

Remus woke up the next morning with a fond smile already on his lips despite the ungodly hour of the morning he was awake at. The night before had been really fun for him and they hadn’t gotten drunk at all really, just enough to feel a slight buzz but with the promise that no matter what happened today, they would go out again after the showstopper and get properly smashed. Remus was looking forward to it.

He changed quickly and headed downstairs, kissing his mum on the cheek as he entered the kitchen. “Toast for my boy,” she said sweetly and Remus gave her a quick smile before stuffing a piece in his mouth.

“Nervous, fab?” (Nervous, son?) his dad asked from his usual seat at the table, the morning paper open in front of him.

“Ddim mewn gwirionedd, yn ddideimlad yn bennaf,” (Not really, mostly just numb.) Remus answered easily, being completely truthful. His nerves felt fried from yesterday and he knew he practiced as much as possible the weeks following up to the competition. He wouldn’t say he was ready and he also wouldn’t say it would turn out well or he was super confident. But he’d made as much peace as he possibly could with the weekend. Whatever happened would happen and he wouldn’t be able to change. (That’s not to say he wouldn’t be a mess during the actual competition, he figured it was kind of calm before the storm.)

He finished off his toast, grabbed his bag and rushed to the door so he could hurry to the train station. He couldn’t afford to be late.

“Let us know if you’ll be home late,” his mom called and he called back an acknowledgment.

“Hey Little Red, hopping on the train right now, second cart from the front,” Remus sent the message as the train pulled up to the station. He had only arrived a mere 30 seconds before.

Lily texted back immediately. “Sounds good, Wolfie. See u in a few.” Remus smiled and settled into a seat, taking out his headphones and shuffling his guilty pleasure playlist that’s filled with Britney Spears and Lady Gaga.

Lily joined him at the Cokeworth station and he quickly hid away his phone with the incriminating playlist and struck up a conversation. “So, you’re from Wales,” Lily stated and Remus raised an eyebrow.

“So I am,” Remus agreed.

“Speak Welsh?” she asked, light in her eyes and Remus snorted.

“Siarad Saesneg?” (Speak English?) he shot back and Lily grinned.

“Wicked,” she gasped. “What’s it like? Wales, I mean. I’ve never been despite it being just across the way,” she asked and Remus shrugged.

“Green, small, Welsh. I live just outside of Cardiff and the city’s rather nice. If I’m being honest I do love it, I just wish I could get out for a little,” he sighed.

“Like, uni or something? I mean I get it though, Cokeworth is small and everyone knows everyone. It’d be nice to get away but I can’t exactly afford uni,” Lily revealed and Remus looked at her for a second before nodding.

“Me too,” he answered. “I’ve always wanted to go, I love learning, I love studying, I love reading but, uh, we can’t afford it either,” he finished with a mumble and Lily gave him a piercing look. He felt uncomfortable. He knew his scars were noticeable and he knew people would always have questions but it wasn’t their business.

“I say go for it. We both should, money be damned,” Lily retorted finally and Remus raised an eyebrow. “You’re what? 21? I am too, it’s not too late, it’s never to late,” she continued and Remus smiled.

“How’d you guess my age?” he asked and she snorted.

“Didn’t you know? I’m a Seer,” she joked and Remus laughed. “By the way, did you know that Severus lives just over the tracks from me in Spinner’s End?” she added on and Remus tried not to let his mood turn sour. He didn’t want to talk about that dickhead.

“Oh how interesting,” he mused carefully and Lily’s face turned hard.

“The guy is a prick. We used to be friends, you know. When we tykes, inseparable and all that. But he changed and I tried hard to forgive him and help him but he’s just a slimy git,” she huffed and Remus glanced over at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely and she shrugged.

“Past is past, it’s just crazy to see him here after a couple of years of not seeing him and knowing he’s still the same twat he’s always been,” she sneered and Remus nodded.

“I had… a… friend like that,” Remus bit out, trying to keep himself under control as he thought about Fenrir fucking Greyback.

“I’m sorry, too then,” Lily said softly and Remus smiled at her.

“Eh, you know, past is past. A guy tries to rape, permanently disables you as a result, and then you beat the shit out of him. Casual, right?” he offered with a flimsy smile and Lily laughed. He was glad she did.

“You’re a right riot, mate,” she said. “At least you got him back and gave him what’s coming. Fuck that guy,” she continued and Remus scrunched his nose.

“Yeah well, now we’re on fucking Bake Off and Snape may be here too but there’s no way he’s winning. Not with you on the show too,” he offered and Lily rolled her eyes.

“Yeah I think you’re more of the threat to be completely honest,” she answered and Remus smiled a toothy grin.

“We’ll both give him a run of it,” he compromised and she smiled back at him.

“Deal.”

Remus was sure he and Lily would take the train to the tent together every morning they could. He was sure he’d just found a friend forever considering they’d just had a heart-to-heart at 7 in the morning on the way to a baking competition. Plus she shared part of her chocolate scone with him and he’d always been a sucker for chocolate.

Marlene got to the Bake Off grounds earlier than most, the only other person there was Frank Longbottom and they had a very brief but friendly exchange of hellos. Marlene just wanted to get there early to clear their head a bit and focus on the task at hand. They’d practiced their cake sculpture for weeks and they knew exactly what they needed to do in order for it to succeed. As long as there weren’t any major catastrophes, they’d be fine.

They were sat on a tree stomp only a small distance away from the tent when Dorcas Meadowed showed up out of nowhere and plopped down right next to them. “Morning,” Dorcas drawled out with too much pep in her step for 7:41 in the morning.

“Hullo,” Marlene answered with a very small smile. “Lovely day innit?” they asked and Dorcas scrunched her nose.

“Yeah, it is. But it got even better with you in it,” she answered and Marlene immediately blushed. Was this flirting or was she like this with everyone.

“I could say the same for you,” they answered cheekily. “But maybe if you brought me a coffee next time, it would be even better.”

Dorcas smiled. “Oh so, I’m not enough? Need coffee too? Alright, fine. How’d you take it? Black? Cream? Sugar?”

“Black,” Marlene answered back with a playful grin. “One sugar.”

“Oh that sounds gods awful,” Dorcas gagged and Marlene giggled.

“Hey, to each their own,” they snarked and Dorcas rolled her eyes.

“You nervous for today?” she asked and Marlene shrugged.

“Yeah, I mean I think it’d be weird if I weren’t,” they replied and Dorcas nodded.

“Me too, but also. Not really? I don’t know I guess I just feel confident,” she continued on and they nodded along.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good way to describe it,” Marlene concluded, smiling at Dorcas who smiled back.

“Wanna get a drink after today?” Dorcas asked and Marlene snorted but nodded at the same time.

“Yeah, I really do,” they answered. “If you’re interested I packed a joint in my bag, we could share if you want,” they continued and Dorcas lit up at the suggestion.

“Sneaky little thing, aren’t you?” she laughed before saying, “Yeah, that’d be nice. Need something to take the edge off with this competition.”

“Precisely my thoughts,” Marlene smiled and Dorcas smiled right back. Gods, they wanted to kiss her so badly but it’s been less than two days of knowing each other and that was way too forward. But still, the want was there.

James and Sirius showed up to the tent together as Sirius really did spend the night at James’s place. James was oddly kind and perceptive to Sirius’s weird moods when his home life was brought up and he had made a genuine offer for him to stay the night.

“That is if you don’t mind the lunacy of Godric’s Hollow,” James had snorted and Sirius grinned.

“No, I very much welcome lunacy,” he had replied and that was that. Sirius met Fleamont and Euphemia Potter and spent the night in the bedroom next to James. They hadn’t practiced the showstopper challenge like James had suggested earlier in the day but even if they wanted to, they would’ve been able to, considering the size of the Potter’s kitchen. It would send Wahlburga Black on a fucking rampage.

They took their stations easily and Sirius admired Remus from behind as the guy took a spot at the station in front of him, just like the day before. “Still on for tonight?” Sirius asked quickly and Remus turned around to smile and nod.

Sirius took a glance over to find James trying to chat up Lily again and he held back an eye roll. The guy was an absolute disaster but he seemed to thrive on being that way which made Sirius appreciate him even more. He, too, was an absolute disaster.

They settled in quickly after that and the cameras started rolling as Minerva, Albus, Sluggy, and Hagrid all walked in.

“Welcome to your very first showstopper!” Sluggy called out and Sirius leaned forward on his station, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear that fell loose from his bun. “Albus and Minerva would very much like you to make a sculpture of your favorite world monument out of cake. It can be the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Great Wall of China, anything you want but it must be made entirely out of cake and your landmark must be decorated to the highest degree,” he explained and everyone stared at him.

“Yeh have three and a half hours! So on yer marks!” Hagrid boomed.

“Get set!” Sluggy chimed.

“Bake!” the two hosts called together and Sirius rushed to start his bake.

Sirius ran through the process of making his batters very quickly, double-checking that his oven was preheating. He was briefly aware at some point that the judges were making their rounds and they were standing in front of Remus who was explaining his sculpture. He caught words like ‘Northern Wales’ and ‘Devil’s Bridge Fall’ but he was too focused on pouring his batter evenly to be able to entirely hear the explanation.

Just as he was ensuring the pans of batter were even and ready to go in the oven, he was interrupted. “Sirius! How are you today?” Sluggy asked cheerfully and the man smiled at the two judges and the host.

“Hello Minerva, Albus, Sluggy. I’m well today, a bit nervous, but okay,” he answered and they smiled back at him. He bent down to put his sponge batter into the oven. He needed them in as soon as possible.

“What are you preparing for the judges today? Where are you taking us?” Sluggy asked and Sirius held back an eye roll.

“Calais, France. I’ll be sculpting the Calais Lighttower out of raspberry and vanilla elderflower sponge with chocolate buttercream holding it together and fresh-made fondant covering the outside,” he explained and they nodded, obviously wanting more about why he chose the Lighttower. “My family, they have strong roots in France and I used to go there at least twice a year with them. I always loved Calais and the Lighttower is so beautiful, I hope I pay it homage well,” he continued and they seemed satisfied.

“That sounds lovely and you seem to have a lot to do so we’ll let you be,” Albus conferred and Sirius nodded his thanks before running to start his buttercream icing.

Before he knew it, there were five minutes left and Sirius was honestly not very pressed for time. He’d had some banter with the bloke behind him, Peter, as well as Remus which kept the mood light and calm (despite Peter’s obvious nerves and lack of time management; he seemed to be a good artist though). He didn’t have any trouble constructing the tower thankfully and the hardest part of covering it in fondant went better than it did when he’d practiced. All that was left was to imprint the brickwork of the tower with a toothpick and paint on some cracks with black dyed buttercream.

“Bakers, your time is up! Please step away from your bakes!” Sluggy called from the front and Sirius took a deep breath, taking in his full creation and feeling rather proud of it. It looked like a Lighttower and it was standing upright. He just hoped it tastes good. Sirius looked past his own bake and saw Remus’s and was astonished. It was amazing, it looked like he’d painted all the colors of the waterfall and greenery onto the buttercream. And there was a bridge made out of chocolate work that was spectacular. Unless it tasted like horse shit, Sirius was positive that Remus would be Star Baker. The guy was bloody brilliant.

“That looks amazing, Rem,” Sirius gushed and he saw him blush while muttering a quiet thank you as they settled in for the judging to start.

They started with Marlene and went up her row. Sirius watched as Andromeda displayed a beautiful Eiffel Tower and tried not to seethe as she got glowing reviews. He liked Andromeda, she was always his favorite cousin but she was still part of his family and he did not do well with family. Thankfully, neither of them had tried to make contact with each other and that’s how he really preferred it.

James had a beautiful Taj Mahal but apparently, his flavors were a little lacking and Severus’s looked pretty terrible but apparently tasted great. It was a shoddy Big Ben and Sirius thought him to be a prick. He’d never had a conversation with the guy but he just seemed like a fucking douchenozzle.

They went down Sirius’s row and that bloke Lucius who’d been mucking everything up had a lackluster showstopper and Sirius couldn’t even make out a church building let alone the Norte Dame, Alice’s was average it seemed to be, Dorcas’ received rave reviews and Remus’s received glowing remarks about design (as it should’ve). They liked the taste of it and Remus was absolutely blushing on his walk back. It was a great look on him.

“Sirius, would you please bring up your monument,” Sluggy encouraged and he stood for his moment of truth. Honestly, if anyone besides Lucius was booted this weekend, Sirius would be shocked but needless to say, he didn’t feel too particularly nervous about judging. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“Well it certainly looks fantastic,” Albus remarked. “Very tall.”

“Yes, the fondant looks well made and it’s homemade?” Minerva asked and Sirius nodded.

“Yes, it is.”

They sliced through it and the whole thing remained standing, thankfully. They inspected his sponge thoroughly.

“Both looked to be well baked and the buttercream is nice and smooth,” Minerva inspected. The raspberry sponge is a brilliant pink and the vanilla elderflower sponge looks quite airy. Let’s just hope we actually get the elderflower flavor along with the vanilla,” she continued and Sirius watched as they put a piece in their mouths.

Albus hummed. “That raspberry is quite lovely with the chocolate buttercream, sharpness and sweetness both come through really well,” he said simply.

“Yes, I quite agree and it’s a beautiful texture, a wonderful bake on this one. Now for elderflower and vanilla,” Minvera remarked, taking a bite onto her fork, Albus following her lead.

After a second she sighed, “Pity. The elderflower doesn’t come through at all really and the vanilla flavor is very overpowering.” Sirius nodded.

“It’s a bit dry too,” Albus added and he nodded again.

“Thank you,” he murmured, waking forward to receive his bake and head back to his station.

Peter was last and he did fine but not good and that was that. They had a quick break while the judges deliberated, all of them gave small testimonials and then they convened back in the tent for the final judging of the week. All of this was a whirlwind for Sirius, he was dead on his feet but he was still ready to go out for the night with Remus and James.

“This week, I have the pleasure of announcing Star Baker. This baker seems to have an eye for chocolate and a hand for design. Remus, you are this week’s Star Baker,” Sluggy announced and Sirius leaned over the person named Marlene and patted his thigh, congratulating him as he sat there absolutely awestruck. Lily patted his head in congratulations and Sirius sat back in his seat.

“Now I ‘ave the very, very, very sad job of telling yeh who’s leavin’ us this week. I tell yeh, I don’ wanna see any of yeh go and I barely even know yeh!” Hagrid exclaimed, almost crying it seemed like. “This week, the one who’ll be leavin’ us is…” Everyone held their breath but Sirius felt as though it was more for show rather than actual nerves. It could only be one person. “… Lucius.”

Lucius stood up and gave a curt nod and sneered a little but everyone still stood and gave hugs for the week as was tradition on the show. Albus and Minerva went around and congratulated everyone, gave advice to those who seemed to need it, praises to those who deserved it, all while Remus was bombarded with hugs and Lucius was not approached at all very much.

It took too long for the camera crew to call cut on the day in Remus’s opinion but he did cry when he called his mom to tell her he got Star Baker. He honestly couldn’t believe it, he really thought Dorcas deserved it more than him and told her so. She told him to shut up and be more confident in his abilities.

But now, he was heading into the nearby town with James and Sirius to grab a quick drink and maybe get drunk. He was going to get drunk. For sure. Especially with Sirius and James, they seemed to be the types to get absolutely hammered when possible. Lily had in fact tagged along like she said she would and she brought Marlene, Dorcas, and Alice with her.

Remus got progressively more drunk and closer to Sirius throughout the night. Alice left rather early, Marlene and Dorcas spent the entire time talking with each other and Remus almost asked why they hadn’t started making out yet. (Honestly, he might’ve said it later in the night but he was a bit too drunk to fully remember.) James and Lily were talking almost the entire time and she had a hard time pretending to be annoyed by him, even when he really was annoying.

Sirius and Remus spent the entire night talking and he’s pretty sure Sirius told him his whole life story and Remus was also sure he told Sirius his but he was even more sure neither of them would remember in the morning.

Near the end of the night, Remus sent his mum a text that he wasn’t coming home because he was staying the night at one of the other contestant’s houses with a few other people. Lily made sure Marlene and Dorcas got home safe, promising that all three of them would text in the giant group chat they started at the bar. And then he settled in bed with Sirius and James, all three of them muttering drunken nonsense.

“Guys, I have work tomorrow,” Remus murmured, his cheek pressed against Sirius’s arm.

“You can’t go Moony, you’re Star Baker,” Sirius slurred and Remus laughed a very drunk laugh that was all deep and stomach-ish.

“Moony?” he asked.

“Awhooo! Wolf Wolf,” Sirius murmured back. “Moony.”

“Doggy,” James drawled and Sirius pushed him a bit. “Sirius star, Canis Major,” he explained weakly.

“Not Doggy,” Sirius huffed.

“Toebeans,” Remus said flatly. James snorted loudly.

“Absolutely not,” Sirius growled.

“Padfoot,” James stated easily and Sirius huffed as Remus cheered.

“Padfoot!”

“Wha bout me?” James slurred.

“‘Ou got big ears and you get tha-.. tha-.. you know…. ahh-face like that… thing,” Sirius said in an extremely unhelpful manner.

“Oh, I know like the uh… animal.. that..” Remus added trailing off and James let out a noise of impatience.

“What?” he whined, drawing it out as his new friends were being extremely unhelpful. “Moony, Padfoot,” he cried and both other men laughed but Sirius hiccuped loudly causing Remus and James to laugh again.

“Hm, Prongs,” Sirius said, snuffling further into the pillow of James’s bed, perfectly content between his two friends.

“Hm yeah,” Remus agreed. “I have work tomorrow,” he said again and James reached over and pushed on his arm.

“Shu up, Star Baker,” he grumbled. “Tell them no. We have bacon here and you live in fucking Welsh,” James murmured, pressing his face into his pillow.

“Wales,” Remus corrected. “Bachgen ceirw mud,” (Dumb deer boy.) he muttered. James said something absolutely unintelligible

“Hmm quiet, sleepy time,” Sirius yawned and neither of the other two boys said anything as they both thoroughly agreed. It was indeed time for bed.

And Remus did not end up going to work the next day, instead, he spent the day extremely hungover with his two newest and best friends: Padfoot and Prongs. He loved Bake Off before, but now he absolutely adored it.

13 notes · View notes

schrijverr · 4 years

Text

Returning Home

Will gets seriously hurt in a battle and is discharged, there he gets a letter from Tom informing him that he is still alive. When he gets back they reunite and he spends time at Toms home where they come together. Will is put for a challenge when he gets a letter from his mother calling him home, he has to go, but Tom comes with him and together they put an end to something and return home.

On AO3.

Ships: Tom Blake x Will Schofield

Warnings: PTSD, nightmares, flashbacks, Amputee!Will, verbal abuse(Wills mom is a dick). Just be safe okay?

A/N: This is a long fic, I mean 31K words long. I also did research for this, but you can check the notes on the fic in AO3 for that.

~~~~~~~~~~

On April 8th 1917 William Schofield went back to his own regiment after having slept for the entire day before that. His insides were hollow and his eyes saw only enough to survive. Without Tom there, the world was dull and empty. He had written Blakes mother to tell her about what happened and given it to Lieutenant Blake. Now there was nothing left for him to do, nothing to live for. So, he denied the leave that was offered him for his achievement and threw himself into the war.

They were called as backup at Arras on April 9th. It’s a repeat tactic of the Somme, with Artillery bombings in the days before they arrived and an attack where they went over the trenches that followed.

Will managed to get into the trenches on the front line, he was angry and in need of revenge or a quick death. He yelled, shot, ran and dodged, all while seeing nothing except Toms last breath and dying eyes. He heard the others whisper of course, he heard them say that he had gone mad, that shell shock had overtaken him, that he was what a man with nothing to loose looked like, a warning for fresh faces. He didn’t care, he just wanted out without bringing the shame to his family that deserting would bring.

Not that he cared much about what his mother thought of him, but he wouldn’t do that to his sister and nieces. They had gone through enough.

On May 15th, one day before the attack was stopped, Will got hit with a rogue grenade. His left lower arm was gone. He awoke seven days later on May 22nd, with an honorable discharge and a letter waiting for him. He was about to put the letter away, just like he had done with every letter he had gotten, but the unknown handwriting stopped him. He opened the letter and almost cried when he saw, who had signed it. Then he quickly started reading the letter.

April 17th 1917

Dear Scho,

It’s me, Tom Blake.

You are probably wondering why a ghost is writing you, well, I’m not dead!

I was very surprised when I woke up later in a hospital room, it’s not heaven I’ll tell you that, but I was happy to be there. My mom was very surprised to see me as well when I got back sometime later. I’m glad you were able to keep your promise and write home, because that means you have survived and gotten to my brother in time. Thank you.

Also thank you for what you wrote in the letter to my mum, it’s all very flattering. I am quite the hero, I read. I also got a medal, reckon that.

We’ve also written to Joe and he’s written back. He was glad to hear I lived and told me how you had arrived at the 2nd Devons and told him I had died. He has send over my rings. I’m glad you took them and gave them to Joe and that they weren’t stolen, which was my initial thought.

He said he you didn’t really tell them how you got there, but apparently you looked worse for wear, so you have to tell me how you finished our mission and what happened next sometime. If there is a next and you’re alive to read this.

It is very strange to be back home again. It’s a familiar and unknown at the same time, but that might be since I am the only one who has returned so far, so there is no one here who has seen what I have. It’s all too peaceful, you know. Like something is about to go wrong, but then it never does. My mum worries for me, but I don’t know how to calm her.

I hope this letter reaches you in good health, or just alive. I also hope that you haven’t traded your medals for a drink yet, because you earned that for saving my life and I rather you keep them. It’s an honor, Scho, and I can say that from experience now, so ha.

Please write back if you have the chance, I’ll leave my address at the bottom of the letter.

Yours,

Blake.

Will was shaking. He couldn’t believe it, Tom was alive, alive and well. He allowed himself a moment, just basking in the good news, before he called over a nurse and asked for paper and a pen. He hadn’t written a letter is months, but now he had never been more excited to write one.

May 22nd 1917

Dear Blake,

I am so glad to hear you’re alive. I can’t believe I read what I read. It’s a miracle!

How did you make it out of there? How did you manage with so much blood loss? I really cannot believe it.

I receive this in relatively good health, but I am among the wounded as a result of the battle by Arras. I also have received an honorable discharge and I am being shipped home on May 25th and will arrive in London by train the morning after. I do not know what I am going to do once I am back home. I’m hoping I can avoid the hospital, but I don’t think I want to go home yet. As you said, being home is going to be strange and I don’t want to worry my sister like you did your mum. I hope she is worrying less now and that you’re doing better.

I am glad that you managed to get the news of your surviving to Lieutenant Blake. That must have been a surprise to him, I was very convincing when telling him about your death. I hope he isn’t too mad at me about the false information.

As of how I got there. That is a long story, let’s just say it wasn’t a smooth ride after I left you, but I don’t think I can fit it on this paper, so I will have to tell it another time.

I still have my medal I got for the mission. I also got a medal from serving at the Somme from another soldier as a good luck charm to avenge him. So I have the entire set.

Hope to see you again.

Yours,

Schofield

Will read his letter over again, it was a bit formal and it didn’t really capture how surprised and happy he was that Tom was alive nor his want to see him again, but it would have to do. He quickly copied the address Blake had given him on the envelope, just in time to give it to a messenger going the rounds.

Wills arm hurt, but he could sit and walk a bit. He was still in his blood soaked and cut up uniform, but no one had bother to give him something else to wear, not while there were also clothes to give to the many man that had to stay behind. He wasn’t in a critical condition, so he was still near the front line, instead of moved further inlands that would come when the trucks left to take them to the boats. This would only happen after they had gotten the critically wounded home.

He was still in his thorn up clothes when he went home and he only got new clothes to wear before they boarded to train for the last stretch. Most of the men took them gratefully, all feeling disgusting. Will felt disgusting as well, but the army had only given it to him now so he would arrive looking better, pure propaganda, otherwise he would have gotten it sooner. So with blood on his clothes, no sleeve and no arm he got onto the train.

It wasn’t as if he needed to look alive for waiting family. He could have his little protest, his own small middle-finger to the government that send them to this Hell. Just for him and no one else.

He also wasn’t rushing off the train the moment they stopped. He waited until the train was steadily flowing empty before he carefully grabbed his pack and made his way out of the train.

On the station he took a second to watch grateful families reunite, hugging each other and smiling all the way. He got some horrified looks, but mostly people ignored him, until he heard a familiar voice yell: “Scho!”

Will whipped around and there he stood, Tom. There was color in his face again and he was smiling, although his face slightly fell when he looked at Will, who was now regretting his silent protest in the form of his clothes. He knew he already looked like death, he hadn’t slept properly since he thought Tom had died, but add the blood and thorn up clothes and he looks like he’s supposed to, namely, like he just got off the battlefield.

One walking ghost in the middle of a train station.

It didn’t stop him, from yelling: “Blake” and waving at him with his right hand, while running towards the shorter man.

When he gotten there he didn’t think, he just pulled him into a hug and breathed: “You’re alive.”

Then he pulled back a bit and asked: “What are you doing here? Is Lieutenant Blake coming home? Is he okay?”

Tom shook his head and said: “No, I came for you. Man, I missed you, Scho. And, of course, I’m alive, I wrote you, you wrote back.”

Will rubbed the back of his head and said: “It’s not the same as seeing it. How are you?”

“How am I?” Tom exclaimed, and nodded to Wills left arm or what was left of it, “How are YOU. You told me you were ‘in relatively good health’! How’s losing part of an arm ‘in relatively good heath’?”

Will shrugged: “I can walk, I can write, I’m conscious and alive. Nothing more to ask for.”

“You’re one tough bastard.” Tom grinned, “Can’t get rid off you, now can they. Anyway, I’m good too, I can walk, I can write, I’m con- Oi”

He was cut off by a soft slap on his shoulder along with a quiet: “Piss off, Blake.”

They both laughed some more, then Blake suddenly changed subjects: “You look like shit, by the way. Why’s that? Didn’t they have some spare clothes to share.”

“They did, only they gave them to us just before we boarded the train, fucking higher-ups and their image. This is my quiet middle-finger.” Will said, with a bit of a blush, he probably sounded ridiculous.

Tom didn’t think so, he just said: “Nice, also, if you want and you don’t have to, but if you want to, yeah, I told my mum that you were unsure of where to go after you came back, so she invited you to stay with us for a while, if you’d like and only if you want to, of course, so yeah.”

For a second Will just looked at Tom and blinked dumbly. Toms mum had invited him, Will of all people, to come to their house and stay there, just because Tom had told her that he wasn’t sure where to go. His eyes got a bit wet and he thought he had been done crying, but it seemed not. Apparently a loving mother was enough.

Tom, however, choose to interpret this differently and he quickly said: “You aren’t obligated if you don’t want to, it was just an offer really, don’t worry.”

Will managed to push back the tears and chock out: “no, I’d- I’d love to.”

Tom immediately brightened as he asked: “Really?”

“Yeah, course, lead the way.” Will smiled.

And Tom did, they bought the train ticket North and had to hurry to the station. It wasn’t until the other people in the train were giving him stares that Will realized that he was still wearing his bloodied army uniform. He tried to ignore the stares, but Tom had been taken by his silent middle-finger, so when an elderly woman continued to stare at Will, making him very uncomfortable, Tom told her: “You know how the government loves to treat their brave soldiers.” he nodded at Will, “Look how they treat their brightest, that one got a few medals, fought at the Somme. He’s still alive, one of the lucky ones, one might say.”

The woman looked horrified and quickly left their little seating area. Will looked at Tom with big eyes, which made Tom laugh as he gasped: “Oh my god, you should see your face right now.”

Will frowned as he said: “Not funny.”

“Oh, come on, she shouldn’t be staring and it’s the truth right? Besides, her face when I started talking to her was priceless and very funny.” Tom said, poking Will lightly.

Will rolled his eyes, but in the end he also laughed.

After that their conversation rolled onto new topics. Until Will asked again how Tom had managed to survive. Tom shrugged and said: “Pure luck. I woke in pain, I don’t know when, it was light out, but it could have been the next day already. Anyway, I started shouting for help and shit and right at that time medical help came by, transporting the wounded from where we were headed. They found me and I went under again, next thing I know I’m in a hospital in England.”

“That is very lucky.” Will agreed.

“So how did you, I know the attack was called off, cause Joe told me, but what happened between me getting stabbed and you arriving at the 2nd Devons?” he asked.

Will shrugged and said: “It’s a long story and we’re almost at the station. I’ll tell you later okay?”

Tom wanted to protest, but before he could the whistle blew. They had arrived on their station.

On the way over to Toms house, he pointed out little things, some Will had heard of before, some new. Tom pointed out his old school, a tree he had fallen out off, a woman he used to help in the garden, the houses he and Joe used to prank the most and the small hospital, to which he vowed to make Will go to for a check up as soon as possible.

Then on the edge of town a small cluster of cherry trees, full of fruit, came in sight, next to a welcoming, home. In the doorway there was a small plump woman, with an open and cheerful smile, waving at them. Her hair, which was tied up in a bun, had the same color as Toms and Will identified her as Toms mother.

Once she saw the state Will was in, however, the smile left her face, much like it had done Toms at the train station. Will once again cursed his decision to not wear the clothing provided, but there was nothing to change now.

When they were at the door, she checked him over entirely then she pulled him into a tight hug. Will startled a bit, but allowed himself to be held, melting into the motherly warmth he hadn’t felt for years. His relation with his mother had been strained even before he had enlisted at the start of 1915. He had been allowed home twice during all that time and comfort had become a foreign concept to him.

After a while Mrs. Blake let go and quietly asked: “My dear boy, what happened to you?”

Again tears welled up in Wills eyes, he tried to blink them away, but had to wipe at his eyes when that didn’t work. He cleared his throat a bit and said: “A grenade, ma’am.”

Mrs. Blake started tutting over him, but Tom saved him by saying: “I’m taking him to the hospital tomorrow, mum, but no one wants to be couped up when they’re just released. You know how I was when I just got back.”

That seemed to pacify her a bit as she lead them inside for tea. As she put on the water she said: “Go on, Tom. Show him to your room and get him into some nicer clothes, he probably fits yours or Joe's. He might be your friend, but he’s also a guest.”

Tom showed him to his room, where two beds were standing. He said: “Me and Joe shared this room before he hit puberty and demanded his own. Real privacy prick, he doesn’t want anyone touching his stuff. Hope you don’t mind sharing.”

“Blake, we used to share a tree, I think we can manage sharing a room.” Will answered.

They both grinned at each other, then Tom left Will on his own to change. Here he stumbled upon a new problem, buttons. With one hand he couldn’t manage more than struggle to tuck in his shirt and clumsily buttoning his pants. He hadn’t realized this problem before, because this was his first time changing clothes since he had been hit.

He quietly made his way downstairs and went into the kitchen where Mrs. Blake was pouring the tea. She saw him and raised her brow in a questioning manner as she asked: “Is there something the matter, dear?”

Will blushed and said: “I don’t want to bother you, but could you help me with the buttons? I would do it myself, but…”

He felt like such a cripple, which is also why he couldn’t ask Tom. He had always kept a tough face in front of the younger soldier. He was supposed to be the more seasoned and rational of the two, but instead he had gotten the younger man hurt, almost killed even, by not paying better attention. It wasn’t his place or his right to ask Tom for help, so Mrs. Blake it was. It also would feel less intimate, which his heart probably couldn’t handle, then if it were Tom.

She seemed to understand this, so without a fuss or a sound she quickly buttoned his shirt and handed him a cup of tea to carry, before leading the way to the table, where she left the two men to talk while she puttered around the house.

When he had sat down tea in hand Tom asked again what had happened after he had gotten stabbed. So Will told him the story, leaving out as much details as he could. He told him how another unit had given him a ride to Écoust, but not how they had gotten stuck and how he had yelled at them all until they helped him. He told Tom about the German sniper in the watchtower and how that had cost him a few hours.

“You got a bullet to the head?” Tom asked, worried frown coming over his face.

“Yeah, lost a lot of hours, had a concussion and needed some stitches, but it was fine.” Will reassured him.

He told Tom about the woman and the baby and the chase, but he left out how he had strangled the young German soldier with his bare hands. He talked about the jumping and the almost drowning. He didn’t tell him about the waterfall, the petals nor the singing, but he did tell Tom about the running over the trenches.

“Are you mad!” Tom had exclaimed at that.

Will shrugged in return: “It was that or be too late.”

“You are one mad bastard.”

Then Will told him about getting stopped and having to knock out one soldier, Colonel MacKenzie and finding Joe. He didn’t tell him how he had sat and cried next to the last tree that stood in the field.

When he was done, Tom was quiet for a moment, then he took a deep breath and said: “Must have been absolute shit. Sorry, I wasn’t there to help.”

Will gave him a sad smile and said: “Wasn’t your fault, kindness is a rare thing, but a good thing. Besides, I made it, so it’s all good.”

“Still, sounds terrible.” Tom said, “What happened then?”

Will rubbed the back of his head and said: “I rejected a short leave, just too much adrenaline, I guess. After that I returned to the 8th and we were called to Arras on the 9th of April.”

Yeah, he thought, too much adrenaline sounds much better than I was so sad you died that I just gave up and hoped the war would kill me quickly.

“Wait, we left on the 6th, right?” Tom interrupted, “Yeah, we left on the 6th, so you arrived on the 7th and like two days later you’re send out again?”

“Yeah, but that was my choice. I rejected the leave.” Will said, then he continued on before Tom could comment, “Arras was terrible, loads of deaths, but it’s all a bit of a blur. I was on the front line for most of it and I’m honestly shocked I’ve survived. We were crossing no-mans land and there were grenades being thrown and shot at us, I got hit. When I woke up, arm was gone and I was discharged, that’s also when I got your letter. And you know what happened next.”

Tom nodded thoughtfully and sipped his tea. When it became clear that the silence wasn’t going to be filled by Tom, Will tried t get some life into the conversation again by saying: “But what happened, happened. It’s not important, it’s over. I’m going to enjoy being discharged and nothing can stop that.”

Tom snapped out of his thoughts and smiled: “That’s the spirit, Scho!”

And with that any odd tension that hung around them had left. The war was behind them and it didn’t matter who though who had died and what bodily harm had happened to who. They had found each other again and now they were swapping stories and jokes, just like they had done every day for the last few months.

Tom showed him the house and the lands more carefully. He got really excited when He got to introduce Will to Myrtle. She was a lovely dog, but all of her puppies had been sold already. Tom said: “You should’ve seen them, they were so cute. Totally worth getting stabbed for.”

Will couldn’t laugh about that yet, but he was glad his friend was happy. After that they ended up sitting in front of the house in the sunshine by the orchard while they petted Myrtle and waited for dinner. The dinner itself was lovely and as Will was sitting next to Tom in the charming quiet home on English soil, while Tom was telling him about that one time Joe had fallen out of a cherry tree, he realized that he had never felt more at home.

That night he barely slept. He sat on his bed and looked at Toms chest rise and fall. Tom had a nightmare at one point, but Will knew better than to disorient him by waking him up, so instead he closed his eyes and listened to the small gasps as he wished he could take this pain away from Tom and take it on himself.

In the end he fell asleep as well, the exhaustion of being at the front lines at high alert for weeks finally taking hold. He slept quite peacefully, only visited by a dying Tom, but before he could get distressed his mind also supplied him with a happily waving Tom at the train station.

He woke slowly and rested, with the sunlight dancing over his face and Tom nudging his side. Will grumbled a bit, but got up with the insistence of Tom and the promise of breakfast. The breakfast was going quite well, he and Tom had decided to pick the cherries today before his visit to the hospital.

Then the paper had been delivered, this shouldn’t be an ominous statement, but on this morning in this house it was. The Blake family got The Times, who, under Lord Northcliff ,were rebelling against the censure of Lord Kitchener. Today The Times covered the return of some of the soldiers after the battle of Arras and it seemed like one reporter had managed to snap a picture of Will right before he was found by Tom.

In the picture he was standing on the platform alone, the wistful and lonely look in his eyes was accentuated by his missing arm and bloodied clothes. His posture was rigid, but you could see the bags under his eyes like they had been drawn on with dirt.

An uncomfortable feeling came over Will as he saw his own picture in the paper. It had been meant as a middle-finger to the government, but it was a silent quiet protest, just for himself and no one else. Will liked keeping things for himself, so the fact that this was printed in a nationwide newspaper was bad. What was even worse, was the fact that the paper had taken the effort to figure out who he was, so in bold letters the caption read: Lance Corporal William Francis Schofield, awarded with The British War Medal, The Allied Victory Medal, The Somme Medal and The Victoria Cross, home after the battle of Arras

Right above the picture was a bold headline: Does the government throw away our war heroes when they leave the war?

Will cursed under his breath before immediately apologizing to Mrs. Blake, who waved him away with: “You earned yourself that slip up, dear.”

Tom tried to break the tension: “At least you got three new bottles out of it, right.”

Will pushed him and said: “I didn’t even know about half of them. I got the Somme medal for the Somme of course, the Victoria cross for our mission, but I missed the other two.”

“Only you would miss getting two medals.” Tom laughed, then it was quiet for a second. Tentatively Tom asked: “So, what are you going to do now?”

Will thought about it for a second, before saying: “Ignore anyone, who wants to talk to me about this, I guess. And write home, they know I’m here now, so might as well hear from me that I’m holed up somewhere in the North, while figuring out what to do instead of the papers. But for now? I’m going to the hospital in the afternoon and I’m going to pick cherries in the morning.”

“You are one of kind, Scho.” Tom grinned, then he got up and grabbed a coat and walked towards the door, calling over his shoulder: “You coming, Mr. Cherry Picker.”

Will grinned and followed his friend out of the kitchen.

He hadn’t known how meditative it could be to pick cherries, but it was quite calming. They didn’t go all that fast and they would need to go on tomorrow and maybe even the day after that, but they talked and laughed while doing it, reminding them of the long afternoons they spend together just cleaning equipment and talking.

After lunch the two ex-soldiers walked through the village to the hospital. Will noticed that more eyes followed them than when they had first arrived yesterday, but so far no one had stopped them and for that he was grateful.

Will was checked over and managed to convince them that he shouldn’t be held here, but that he could recover on his own. In the end the doctor relented and send him away with painkillers and a salve against infection along with the order to come back in a couple of days.

He met up with Tom again and together they walked back to the Blake house. They were almost there when an man, a bit older than them, stopped them and asked: “Aren’t you the lad from The Times?”

Will shuffled back a bit, feeling uncomfortable with the sudden attention from bystanders the question got him, but Tom had no such qualms. He said: “Yes, Mr. Harrow, he is and he came here to escape the noise of war, don’t start making new noise for him to suffer through. The Times called him a hero right? Well, this hero wants peace, so be a good civilian and grant him that. He fought for your country and safety, he has earned some quiet.”

Once Tom was done with his spiel, Will didn’t think he could get more embarrassed, but then an old gray man stood up and clapped. Much to Wills chagrin and Toms delight, more people joined in. Will was glad these people would leave him alone, but he could have done without the fuss.

When they got to the house he went around back with some paper and a pen, needing solitude and space to think. Tom seemed to understand this and left Will be while he wrote to his family, distracting his mother by telling her what had happened in town.

May 27th 1917

Dear mum and Polly,

It is odd to write to you from another place than the trenches in France. If you have seen The Times, you know that I am indeed home in England. Maybe this picture worried you, but know that I am okay. I am not in a hospital and I am not in danger. I am staying with Blake, a friend from the war and I do not know how long I will be gone, but know I will come back.

I wish I can find some peace on English soil before coming to face you. Hopefully you do understand this.

I hope to see you all soon. Polly, please, give Mary and Jane a kiss for me and tell them that their uncle misses them very much.

Yours,

Will

He sighed and read over the letter. His family had never been that close, especially after his leave. However, he had always been there for Polly, when husband had fallen victim to the war, and loved his nieces like they were his own.

Yet, he did not want to see them. He had, a bit after the Somme, but where his room used to bring solitude and comfort it now brought a feeling of being locked in without a good vantage point to see the enemy. And where his sister had been a rock, she now brought turbulence to his already unsure life.

His sister and mother had tried to understand, but he could see how the screaming during the night had tired them out and made them look at him differently. He knew he had changed, he never was much of a talker, but after the Somme he had barely said a word. He had scared his nieces and worried sister, until it ended in a fight.

So no. He didn’t want to go home, he didn’t want to get stuck in the middle or try and be his old self to comfort others. The people he stayed with now only knew him from after or during the war, he didn’t need to pretend and that was all he wanted.

He sighed again and looked out over the fields behind the home until Tom called him in for dinner. That evening he was quiet and turned in early.

His dreams weren’t as kind to him as it had been last night. The Somme and Arras blurred together, he heard the bombs fall all around him along with the screams of his friends and comrades. Then he saw his sister in the middle of the battle field, that was slowly melting away. She looked at him accusingly as she asked: “Why didn’t you come home, Will?”, but before he could answer, she was stabbed and fell to the ground. He ran forward to catch her and as he did she turned into Tom, who was lying next to the burning barn, gasping with fear filled eyes as he asked him if he knew the way.

He woke with a scream, terrified and not really understanding where he was. It was dark and he couldn’t see, he heard a voice talking to him, but he couldn’t make out the words. A figure approached him, so he scrambled back and raised his arms to defend himself, only to realize that he was missing part of his arm and he was therefore at a disadvantage.

Then he heard a female voice as well and a light rounded the corner, followed by a small plump woman. With the light he could also make out the figure of before. It was Tom, who was looking at him with a concerned expression on his face. His mind seemed to catch up with what was happening and his body slowly relaxed as he realized he was safe. He slumped into himself where he was sat in the corner of the room and tried to find the ability to breathe again.

In the distance he could hear Blake say: “Just go back to bed, mum. I’ll handle this. I think the last thing he needs right now, is someone he doesn’t really know.”

There was an answer and footsteps fading away back into the corridor.

Once they had heard a door open and close, Tom moved forward and sat on the ground in front of Will and said: “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re home in England and you’ve been discharged, you will never have to go back there. It’s okay, just breathe.”

Tom slowly grabbed Wills hand and placed it on his chest, then he started to breathe deeply but calm, urging Will to follow his lead. And sluggishly Will did. He breathed until he realized he had been crying and that he had been pulled forward by Tom until he was practically sitting on the other mans lap, with his head now leaning on Toms chest to listen closely to his steady heartbeat, while Tom held him secure with his left arm.

He blinked a few times and wiped his tears away in Toms nightshirt. He swallowed audibly and in a hoarse and confused voice he said: “You’re alive? Or am I dead?”

He didn’t see Toms sad face at how broken he sounded, but he did feel it when Tom used his right hand to card his fingers through Wills hair. Tom rocked him a bit back and forth and he whispered into his ear: “I’m alive. I’m alive, don’t worry. I am alive and so are you. We’re both here, back safely in England.”

He continued the rocking motion and the carding through the hair until Will moved away from his chest and looked into his eyes. For a second they just stared at each other, then Will felt the increasing need to touch Tom, so he raised his hand and caressed his cheek. Tom blushed a bit, but held his gaze. Will smiled and said: “You’re alive.”

Tom smiled back and said: “That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

Wills smile turned into a grin that faded into a bashful look and retracted his hand from Toms cheek. He now blushed heavily too and rubbed the back of his neck while moving backwards, away from Toms lap. Then he quietly said: “Thank you.”

Just as quietly Tom replied: “No problem. Are you going back to sleep?”

Will looked outside, it was dark out, but the first touches of sunlight were tickling the treetops. Going back to bed now, wouldn’t be worth it. He shook his head and Tom nodded. “Well, then I suppose I can make you some tea. Come on.”

Immediately Will refused: “You don’t need to do that. I can make some tea on my own, you should try to get some rest, it is pretty early. Just go back to bed.”

“Nah, I probably couldn’t go back to sleep if I tried. Better to get up and make myself useful.” Tom waved his concerns away.

They changed their clothes. Will had discovered that he could just keep his over shirt buttoned up for a long way, so he could fit his head through it and wouldn’t need to do up his buttons one handed. He fumbled a bit longer with his pants, but they were done at roughly the same time, so they made their way downstairs together to start the day.

They drank their tea and ate a bit of the cherry harvest from yesterday. Then Tom suggested going for a walk through the forest nearby, just to get out of the house and away from people for a while. Will gratefully accepted, but soon came to a new realization, yesterday Mrs. Blake had helped him with his shoelaces, this wasn’t an option now. He looked at Tom who had just finished writing a note to his mum explaining where they were in case she woke up before they were back. When he noticed Will looking at him he asked: “Are you ready to go?”

Will blushed and answered: “Uh, no, I can’t, I can’t tie my shoelaces.”

Tom looked confused for a moment and started to ask why Will wouldn’t be able to do that, when he stopped after he remembered his arm. He walked to Will and knelt down, tying the laces for him, much to Wills mortification. Yet, the man couldn’t look away while Tom knelt in front of him, helping him with something so mundane and domestic.

Tom looked up and met his eyes, then he noticed the partly undone buttons and a realization dawned on him. He grinned and started doing the buttons while he said: “Come on now, we can’t have the hero in the village looking like a slob.”

It broke the weird feeling that had been building inside Wills chest as he laughed at his friend and told him to piss off.

Tom called Myrtle over to take her with them on their walk. Then they were off, through the fields towards the woods. It felt a bit like the journey they had undertaken on the 6th, but it was very different all the same. There was the same camaraderie and the same stupid jokes and stories being shared, but there was no pack on their back, no riffle hanging over their shoulder and no lives in their hands.

By the time they came back, the sun was fully out, lighting the lands, making them cheerful and welcoming. At home, Mrs. Blake had breakfast waiting for them. She had also posted Wills letter. He was grateful to her for that, because he didn’t think he could have brought himself to post it, to face his family like that.

They ate in silence and Will was glad that Mrs. Blake didn’t mention what had happened during the night, although he did feel a bit guilty for waking her.

After breakfast they went out into the orchard again. The weather was nice and the company pleasant. While they were picking, Mrs. Blake was doing the wash, humming lightly and sometimes singing a song. It was peaceful and Will could feel the knot that had tightened in his chest during the war loosen slightly.

That night, it was Will who was awoken by Tom. The younger man had a nightmare. Will didn’t know what to do, so he did what Tom had done for him, he held him tight and rocked him slightly back and forth until he calmed down. Without realizing what was happening, Will fell asleep, still holding Tom close. Both men, slept soundly that night.

The next evening Will stood looking at his own bed, he was tired, but the idea of going to sleep was immensely unappealing. He didn’t want to face the nightmares again, to see everyone he had failed. Tom saw his hesitation, the other knew what was going through Will right now, but he also knew that Will would rather die than admit to having emotions and needing help. So he decided to bite the bullet for the both of them. He said: “Hey, Scho? Do you mind if we push the beds together? I slept way better with you close.”

Wills heart rate picked up. He didn’t want to admit to himself that having Tom close sounded very tempting, but that way Tom might realize that Wills feelings for him were a bit more than just friendship. He was still on the fence when he made the mistake of looking into Toms earnest and beautiful blue eyes. He said: “I don’t mind.”

Tom smiled at him and Will decided that it had been the right move. They moved the beds and got under their covers. Will tried to stay on his half and not touch Tom, but Tom was already asleep and didn’t have those limitations. Within minutes he had twisted himself into Wills side. Will held his breath and didn’t move. He wouldn’t dare startle his friend now, afraid of his reaction if he would wake up.

When nothing happened for an hour, Will finally allowed himself to relax. Tom felt warm beside him and the constant pressure reminded him where he was and that he was safe there. Within minutes of relaxing he was fast asleep. Next to him, Tom felt Wills breaths deepen, so he cracked one eye open and looked at his sleeping friend. He smiled at the peaceful expression on Wills face and let the darkness take him too.

After that they developed a new rhythm, in the morning Blake helped Schofield with his buttons and laces, during the day they walked through the forest with Myrtle and they helped around the house or in the village, while they laughed and shared anecdotes and at night they held each other tight in the hope of banishing the war from their dreams.

One night after they had shoved their beds together. The two of them were lying next to each other, staring at the ceiling. Will was very aware about the small space between their bodies. He was aching just to take Toms hand, but he was scared of what would happen if he did. He wanted to tell the beautiful man beside him how much he meant to him and how much he loved him and badly he wanted him to love him back.

He sighed and decided that he couldn’t, not yet. He would tell Tom when he had to go, when he was leaving anyway, so it would feel less like he had been thrown away when Tom would get mad at him. He wouldn’t allow himself to loose this until he was already going to.

They continued to do this for a few more days, before a letter arrived for Will. His mother and sister had received his letter and tracked down where the Blake family resided. With a pounding heart and shaking hands Will opened the letter.

June 3rd 1917

Dear Will,

Please come back home to us. We need to see with our own eyes that you are alive and well. Mary and Jane haven’t stopped asking after you ever since the article came out and Polly doesn’t know how to explain to them why their uncle isn’t home yet.

We understand that you need time for yourself, but we also need you here. We are your family and we want you home with us. If you really can’t part from someone you’ve gotten to know while you were there, this Blake is more than welcome in our home, just come back we need every hand we can get.

Give your nieces a male authority figure in their life, don’t leave them hanging like their father did.

Yours,

Grace Schofield, your mother in case you have forgotten

Will reread the letter many times. He couldn’t place how he felt about the letter, he knew his sister and nieces missed him, but he had never thought that his mother would worry as well. He didn’t know what to do. There was something that tugged at his heart when he thought of leaving Tom behind, but he knew he couldn’t ask him to leave his mother behind and go with him back to London. Because he knew he had to go back there. This was a cry of help from his family and he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to see for himself.

Crying and conflicted is how Tom found him. He sat down next to Will, closer than was necessary, with their entire sides pressing up against one another. Will got comfort out of the contact, but the inside of his chest ached with the familiarity that came with sharing a tree.

Wordlessly he gave Tom the letter to read. Tom read the letter carefully and said: “Well, it looks like we’re going to London.”

Will looked at him with pinched brows and unsure if he heard correctly he asked: “We?”

“Yeah, says here I’m invited and this doesn’t seem like something you can ignore, so, yeah, we.” he said, “Unless, you don’t want me to come, which is also fine.”

Will got a hopeful feeling in his chest, but it was crushed as he said: “I can’t, I can’t make you leave your mother behind. Mrs. Blake is an amazing and loving mother, I cannot ask that of you.”

“So you do want me to come?” Tom asked.

“Of course I want you to come. You’re the only good thing that came out of this god damned war. You’re kind, sweet and you make everything a little more bearable. When I though I’d lost you, I just couldn’t function anymore, I practically threw myself over the trenches in the hope that I would get hit and I’ve had nightmares about it ever since. Seeing you alive and well is the only thing that calms me, so of course I want you to come, but it’s just selfish.” when Will was done with his spiel he was breathless and he hoped his little speech wasn’t too revealing.

Next to him Tom had gotten a small smile on his lips, although his eyes were sad. He took a deep breath and said: “I’m going to say something crazy and you might hate me after, but I think you should hear it and think about it.”

“What are you going on about, Blake?” Will asked, not sure what the other could say to make him hate him. He was pretty sure that hating Tom was impossible.

“I think I’m in love with you, Scho. And I think you feel the same.” Tom said in a tone that said it was a fact and not something that could be debated.

Will felt like he had been punched in the chest with relief and disbelieve. Tom, beautiful and perfect Tom was in love with him. In love with Will, who was cynical and quiet, boring. Will who didn’t deserve the kindness and attention Tom gave him, but basked in it, like a plant in the sun. The sun was way more important and bright than the flower, but when it shone the flower flourished.

He quietly whispered: “Holy fuck.”

Tom couldn’t help, but chuckle at that as he asked: “You’re finally also caught up, I hear?”

“How? Why?” Will still tried to comprehend how this effected everything.

“How I noticed?” Tom asked.

Wordlessly Will nodded. A soft look overtook Toms features and he said: “I noticed you making eyes at me, was because I was constantly looking at you, Scho.”

“I did not make eyes at you.” Will said with a pout, then he blushed and softly asked: “We’re you really looking at me?”

Tom felt his heart melt for the man next to him. He tried to be so tough and uncaring about the world, but it was all a shield to protect his soft and big heart. He smiled: “Yes, I was looking at you, always.”

“So, what now?” Will asked him, finally raising his head to look Tom in the eyes.

Tom shrugged and said: “If you have me, I’ll go and visit your mother, sister and nieces with you. But for now? I’d like to kiss you if that’s okay?”

Almost unnoticeable Will nodded and Tom leaned forward to meet his lips. The kiss was tender, but it was also desperate. They needed to feel that the other was here, that they were here and that this was okay. They needed this more than they needed oxygen. Tom deepened it, biting Wills lower lip and slipping his tongue into his mouth. It wasn’t needy, but caring. Neither felt the need to do more, except got lost in each other.

In the end they broke apart, because they needed the breathe, but both still held the other tight.

When their breathing was even again Will said: “If you want, I’d love to show you my home and introduce you to my nieces.”

“Then we’ll do that.” Blake said firmly.

“I do have to warn you.” Will said, “My home is way different than this.”

“I don’t mind. You can’t scare me away, Scho. I love you and now you’re stuck with me forever.” Tom told him.

Will couldn’t deny the gymnastics his heart did when Tom said that. He could feel his cheeks darken and he confessed: “I love you too, I hope you will want to stay with me, because I will never let you go.”

Tom smiled and they got lost in each other for a moment. They were pulled out of their little bubble by Mrs. Blake, who yelled: “Boys, dinner is ready!”

They startled away from each other, then Tom smiled sadly and said: “We’ll have to keep it a secret forever, you get that, right?”

Will nodded: “Yeah, it is quite sad. We’ve both lost so much for this country and they won’t even give us a bit of peace or happiness. But if secrecy allows me to be near you forever, I’d kindly take this secret to my grave.”

Tom nodded, then helped Will into an upright position, before they walked to the house for dinner. Mrs. Blake cried that evening when Tom told her he was going with Will to London, but she understood that Will had to go back and also understood that Tom wouldn’t give up his connection to the war, not yet. Tom had a hard time adjusting when he came, his stories would be a gruesome and no one would get why it was funny, which made Tom sad, he loved making people laugh and relating to them, but he couldn’t, not when they didn’t understand why he laughed at those things, that he laughed because otherwise he would break. So he had become quieter, not talking unless he had to. When Will came it was like he had transformed overnight back into himself, constantly smiling and chattering on about one thing or another. So she understood, but that didn’t mean she didn’t cry.

That night it took both men a while to fall asleep, neither wanting to be the first, who said goodbye to the small kisses they shared.

The next day, after Tom had said a lengthy goodbye to Myrtle and his mum, he and Tom were on the train going back South. Not towards boats to take them to France, but to family and London. Which in Wills eyes was the same, they were headed into battle and he was mentally preparing himself for the battlefield that was his home and family.

On the station, four women were waiting on them. One was a older, with gray streaking her stand-blond hair and lines accentuating her stoic face, the other was in her twenties with a light blush on her face along with a smile, at her feet stood two twin little girls, round seven-years-old, who were both giggling and when they saw Tom and Will they ran towards the latter while shrieking his name.

Will dropped his stuff and knelt down in order to hug both of the girls. One in purple said: “Uncle Will, uncle Will, what happened to your arm?”

Will smiled and carefully answered: “Well, there was this man, you see, and in the night he stole it.”

The one in pink asked: “He stole it?”

“Jup.” Will concurred, “I didn’t even notice it until I woke up. He had just grabbed it and ran away with it to sell to the highest bidder.”

Both girls got big eyes of disbelieve, but before Will could go on he was interrupted by the older woman, his mother. She said: “Will, you got to stop feeding them all that rubbish. They are too young for this type of talk. We don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s good to see you too, mother.” Will said as he got back on his feet.

Then he turned to his sister and smiled. They gave each other a hug and Will kissed her cheek as he said: “It’s so good to see you again, Pol.”

He looked back at his mother and nodded. There was a quiet tense atmosphere in the air for a second, but that was broken when Wills mother shook his hand and tightly said: “It’s good to have you home.”

It seemed like both Polly and Will relaxed slightly after she had done that. Then Will turned to Tom, who had quietly been watching the family reunite, and said: “This is Blake, uh, Thomas Blake. We were in the 8th together.”

Tom shook Mrs. Schofields hand first and said: “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Schofield. You can call me Tom.”

He then shook Polly's hand before turning to the twins and asked: “And who might these lovely young ladies be?”

The two girls giggled and the one in purple said: “I’m Jane and that’s Mary.”

Mary looked away bashfully, but still waved at Tom. Jane showed no bashfulness as she asked: “How do you know Uncle Will? Did you see the man who stole his arm?”

Tom laughed and said: “I didn’t see the man who stole your uncle Wills arm, sorry, he only told me later that it had been stolen and I know him from the war. Me and him were buddies together in France.”

Jane nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer Tom had given her. Polly said: “Sorry about her, she is very inquisitive. You don’t have to give her an answer.”

Will laughed and told Tom: “You’d say she’s the only one who didn’t inherit the Schofield Silence.”

Tom grinned as well and replied: “I’m glad she’s cured then.”

“Oh, sod off, Blake.” Will said with a shove.

Mrs. Schofield raised a brow at Will and said: “You have your tongue back, I take it.”

Instantly Will schooled his features and nodded, ignoring Toms questioning look. Jane didn’t notice the tense silence and happily said: “I’m glad uncle Will is talking again. It was boring when he was quiet all the time.”

Mary nodded silently as well, not seeing her mother and grandmother get big eyes of horror at her sister deceleration. Will looked at Tom, who had a knowing look in his eyes, when he had first met Will the man hadn’t said anything as well, shell shocked by the Somme the other soldiers had told him. Tom thought that no one should be silent for so long, so he had made it his mission to cheer the other up. He had been ecstatic the first time he had made Will laugh.

So he ignored Mrs. Schofield and Polly he told Jane: “I’m glad too, he used to be such a sourpuss, you know.”

Jane grinned and said: “I like you, you can stay.”

Tom laughed again before replying: “Thank you for your approval, madam.”

Will said to the others: “Just ignore him for a bit, he loves the sound of his own voice too much. Let’s stop crowding the station and go home.”

“Uncle Will?” Mary asked quietly.

“What is it, Mary?” Will said.

“Can I hold your hand on the way back?” she asked.

Before Will could reply Jane cut in: “No fair. I wanted to hold uncle Wills hand, now that he only has one, we can’t both hold it and I wanted to.”

“Jane.” Polly chided.

Will said: “I’d love to hold your hand Mary.” the girl in question smiled and Will turned to her sister, “And Jane, I need someone big and strong, since I only have one I cannot hold Marys hand and carry my bag. Would you be so kind to hold my bag? Can you do that for me or should I ask your mother to do it?”

She shook her head violently and proudly said: “I can do, I’m a big girl you know.”

Will smiled, his bag was small and had barely anything in it, but still he said: “I know you are that’s why I asked you.”

Besides him Mary frowned, so he turned to her while handing Jane the bag and gave her a conspiratorial wink, which made her giggle.

They walked down the street with Jane between her mother and Mrs. Schofield and behind them Tom and Will with Mary between them. As they were walking Tom said: “I never pegged you for the type.”

“What type?” Will asked, not sure if he wanted to know. Tom shrugged and said: “You know, the one who’s good with kids. With all the frowning and brooding you seem to do, can’t imagine you as the fun uncle.”

Will just rolled his eyes and stayed silent. He knew Tom couldn’t take the silence for too long and he was right, a few seconds later Tom had launched into a story about the time he and his family had gone to London to buy a carpet at the market. It was a special one that his mum had wanted really badly, but getting it home had been a disaster. With the way it was told, Will couldn’t help, but snort.

The Schofield home, wasn’t big or luxurious. It had three bedrooms, one for Mrs. Schofield, one for Polly and one for Schofield and Blake to share, while the twins slept in the living room.

Wills room was pretty bare, with a small bed and a mattress on the floor, it only had a tiny desk, a wardrobe and some books. Will cringed a bit when he compared it to Toms room, but there wasn’t much to do about. His family wasn’t poor exactly, but it couldn’t be classified as middle-class either. The city life was different than the countryside, with smaller houses and little to no toys. Will himself had dropped out of school when he could to help provide for his family by working in the factory, even though he had loved to learn and reading was his passion.

Tom didn’t mention anything about it, he just said: “I am the guest that gives me the rights to the bed.”

“My arm is missing.” Will protested without vigor, it just hit him that here they couldn’t share a bed. Back at Toms house Mrs. Blake didn’t come into Toms room and they were mostly up before anyone else. He wasn’t sure his family would respect their privacy and with the confession of yesterday along the developments in their relation, it would be different and dangerous.

Tom was oblivious to Wills inner musings as he shot back: “Nothing that will stop you from getting up from the ground.”

“Your legs are fine as well.” Will replied, not wanting to stop the conversation just yet.

“Yeah, but I got stabbed in the side.” Will said, then he mused before asking: “Does that trump almost getting blown to bits?”

“You’re already fine, so I think it does.” Will told him.

“Yeah, but it’s still healing. Technically.” Tom said without any heat.

Will rolled his eyes, but with that action he saw his mother and sister looking at them standing in the doorway, but with horrified expressions, so he said: “Just take the fucking bed, Blake.”

Tom grinned victoriously and dropped his stuff onto the bed. Will joined him in dropping off his stuff before turning back to his family and saying: “We should probably catch up?”

His mother nodded and said: “We’ll do that after dinner, when the girls are asleep, for now, lets make our guest comfortable.”

Tom piqued up beside Will and said: “Don’t worry about me, Mrs. Schofield. I’m fine.”

Mrs. Schofield gave him a look then turned back to her son and said: “I have the paper here, you should look for a job to help out now that your back.”

“Yes, mother, will do.” Will sighed as he took the paper from her, already things were starting to feel like old, sadly.

“Good, now, Polly and I are going to the store, I hope you an watch Jane and Mary while we’re gone.” she said.

Will nodded again and watched as they left. When the door shut behind them he turned to Tom, who had an odd expression on his face. He tentatively said: “I don’t want to pry, but in the letter she sounded a lot more worried. Nothing bad, of course, just unexpected.”

Will sighed again and looked at the paper in his hand, now noticing it were two. One was of today the other was The Times of May 27th with his picture on the front, he let his shoulders sag and told Tom: “Home sweet home.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tom asked a bit unsure.

He thought about it, before saying: “We’ve never been all that close. It was mostly my dad keeping us together, but when he died it went to shit. Then Polly's husband, George, was among the first who died in the war, so now it’s just me and the girls. It’s always been surviving and before I went back to France, we had this big fight.”

“A fight?” Tom inquired, but Will didn’t get to answer, because Jane and Mary were running up to them. Jane at the front yelling: “Mommy said you’re watching us, uncle Will. Is that true?”

Will smiled and said: “It is. Wanna play a game or read a book?”

The two girls looked at each other, communicating silently, before Jane said: “We wanna hear a story, but not from a book. We wanna hear about your adventures in the war.”

Will looked a bit unsure, not really knowing how he could make any story about the war kid friendly. Jane and Mary noticed his hesitation, so in union they pleaded and Will broke telling them: “Of course I will. Lets go sit on the couch.”

The two bounded away, Jane pulling Will along by his hand. Over his shoulder he shot a helpless look Tom, who was laughing at him without shame.

He was sitting on the couch, sandwiched between to eager girls who were looking at him expectantly and his mind was completely blank. He had no clue what to tell them. He couldn’t tell them about the bombs, the wounds, the screams, the booby-traps, the blood or the death. Uncertain he started: “One time I together with Blake went to, uh.”

He looked at Tom willing the other to save him from this position. Tom was the story teller, not him. Luckily Tom got the message and he filled in: “We went to get water from a pond nearby.”

Jane frowned and said: “That sounds boring.”

“It might sound it, but it was quite to opposite, because the pond was near the enemy, who had put up many obstacles to get there.” Tom said, turning the story over to a grateful Will.

“Yes, first we got to rows barbed wire. If you weren’t cautious, it would snag on your clothes or cut your skin and you could get stuck in its hold forever.” he said and both girls gasped, now invested in the story.

For him and Tom it had been a pretty routine and safe mission to check if the Germans had been poisoning their water supplies, but the two didn’t need to know that. He went on: “Carefully we made our way through the rows. We had to be careful and help each other, pulling the wire up or down so that we could get through. We were almost on the other side when suddenly, Blake got stuck.”

It had been something minor that was fixed in a minute, but it hadn’t been fun and the cut had itched like hell while it healed, resulting in much complaining from Tom. Will decided that telling two little girls about having to pull metal out of flesh was not that good of an idea, so he said: “His sleeve had been cut open and a barb held him firm in place. Luckily with the skills of his companion he managed to get free and soon they went on to their next and final obstacle.”

Will thought how he was going to present the attackers they faced after that, it turned out they were trying to poison it, but Tom and Will had stopped them before they could and a permanent watch had been installed at the ponds right after. They had shot the attackers, which wasn’t all that nice for children, probably. Apparently he had been quiet for too long, because Jane asked: “What was the obstacle?”

Will blinked and said: “Uh, there were some people, enemies, who were trying to steal the water, so that we couldn’t get any.”

“That’s not nice.” Mary said, with a small frown.

“No, it wasn’t.” Will agreed, “So, we went up to the men and asked them to leave.”

Highly incorrect, he had opened fire the moment he had spotted them, Tom following his lead. He ignored the truth and went on, now just making stuff up: “The men didn’t want to leave and they started wrestling with each other. We fought and fought until, the two thieves were unconscious. When that was done we tied them up and handed them over to the police, who locked them up for their crime. The end.”

In reality they had dragged the bodies away from the water in order to preserve it, before filling up their canteens and making their way back to the camp to deliver their report.

The two girls seemed happy with the story both clapping enthusiastically, opposite to him was Tom, who grinned at him and said: “You’re quite the story teller.”

He grinned back: “I try.”

Then he heard from the doorway: “You’re not filling them up with nonsense again, are you?”

Polly and Mrs. Schofield had returned just in time to catch the last interaction. Before Will could explain, Jane had jumped up and ran over, while babbling: “He told us a story from his time away at the war. About the water that was almost stolen.”

“Don’t tell them war stories, Will, it’s not good for them to hear of such violence. I already told you that, don’t you listen?” Mrs. Schofield said.

“I’m not telling them just anything, it was a harmless story and heavily edited, don’t worry.” Will answered, feeling a new sigh rise.

Jane came to his defense: “Yeah, there was barely any fighting or anything, honestly I wanted to hear more about the man, who stole his arm, but you told me not to ask about it.”

Mrs. Schofield shushed her and went back to glaring at her son. Will was very uncomfortable under her scrutiny and said: “I was going to show Blake around the neighborhood, but we’ll be back by six.”

Then he left, while ignoring his mothers muttering about how there wasn’t much to show.

When the door fell closed behind them Will sagged and turned to Tom: “Sorry about them. I would say she means well, but I’m unsure, honestly.”

Tom smiled and said: “Your nieces are nice.”

Will smiled and said: “Thank you, they are the ones holding this family together right now, I think. Jane can be pretty brash, but she protects Mary without question.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Tom told him, “And I don’t mean to pry, but…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but Will knew what he was referring to. He said: “It’s a pretty long story, but my mother didn’t agree with who Polly's husband was and there was a big fight about it. I, well, I picked Polly's side and I don’t she has forgiven us. I was going to get away with them, but that didn’t work out and Polly had to go back after George died. I never really left, but I was rarely home. It’s just weird, I’m even wondering why I even came back. Maybe, maybe I hoped that- in the letter she sounded so sincere, you know.”

“I know, but we can go if you want.” Tom offered.

Will wanted to take him up on that offer so badly, to just step on the train and go back to Mrs. Blake with her warm hugs and big smiles, but he couldn’t go. He couldn’t leave his nieces and sister there, so he shook his head and told Tom: “I can’t leave Polly or my nieces behind. I already had to leave them once and I can’t, I can’t do that again.”

Tom remembered a thorn up Will in the middle of a field, telling them that having to go home, knowing that he had to go back, had been terrible, to leave them behind without being sure that he would come home. At the time Tom hadn’t understood why he had said that, but now he was beginning to form a picture. This is why he simply said: “Then we’ll stay.”

Will gave him a look of awe and said: “How are you even real?”

Tom laughed heartily at that and replied: “I am quite the catch.” then he changed the subject: “So, pranked a lot of poor unsuspecting people on these streets?”

Will smirked and said: “No, unlike you I’m a gentleman.” which earned him a shove and a sound of disagreement.

Will did point out some of the places he went a lot as a kid, but before they made it to the end of the street they got stopped by an elderly man, who said: “Will? That you? I haven’t seen you here in a years it seems, which was pretty strange since according to The Times you’ve been home a week already.”

Tom saw Will shrink into himself a bit at the mention of the article, but he smiled back and said: “Yeah, I’ve been staying in the countryside for a while.”

“The countryside.” the man laughed, “I always knew you was a quiet one, but what on earth is there in the countryside?”

“He was staying with me, sir.” Tom cut in, “I’m Tom, Tom Blake. Me and Schofield served in the 8th together.”

The man nodded and introduced himself as well: “I’m Henry Johnson. I was his boss in the factory, before he allowed himself to be shipped out.” he turned to Will and said, “Really, boy, it’s good to have you back.”

“I don’t think I’m fit to work in the factory anymore, so I’m not that much of use to you.” Will said, showing him his arm.

Henry waved him away and said: “I don’t care what shape you’re in, you came back. Not a lot of people, who can say that around here.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Will smiled, “Hey, you wouldn’t know if anyone was offering another job?”

“I take it your mother is already hounding you.” Henry cackled, “Is she happy to have you back?”

Tom looked at Will, afraid he’d see hurt on the other mans face, instead he saw resignation. He wasn’t sure what would have hurt more. Meanwhile Will answered: “She is telling me to look for a job, yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Henry scratched his beard, “she came by in quite a state when she had seen the article. She told me she hadn’t heard of you yet and that she was sure you had run off to avoid the responsibility you had as man of the house and that sort of thing.”

Now there was hurt on Wills face, it had been true that he had avoided going home, but he would never stay away forever, although waiting until his mother had passed away had crossed his mind.

Instead of explaining that he needed time to collect himself after everything he had seen, he sighed: “Of course, she’d say that. Did she say anything else about the article?”

Henry thought for a second, then he said: “Well, she did mention a reporter had come by to interview you. She was quite mad that you weren’t there and that if you were, she would have thrown you to him. Apparently he was offering money for a comment. ”

Will cringed a bit at that and decided he didn’t want to hear more, so he replied: “Thank you, Henry, it was good to talk to you and see you around.”

Tom shook Henry's hand and said: “It was nice to meet you, sir.”

“The same.” Henry nodded.

The two men walked on in silence for a second. The streets were quiet and calm, most were already home for dinner. Then Tom said: “So that was something.”

A few moments there was no response and Tom was just starting to worry when Will answered: “Jup.” he was quiet again, until: “You think we could take Polly and the girls back North? Just leave everything behind and leave? Is that a dumb idea?”

Tom mulled it over, before carefully saying: “Well, I don’t think it’s a dumb idea, but your sister needs to agree with it and you have to be sure. I would love to just start over, but you can’t just go and take people without a plan or something.”

“But you would want to, you think it is a good idea?” Will pressed.

“The idea sounds great, but also spur of the moment, Scho.” Tom said. He wanted to take this man, who at this moment looked so much like a lost boy, to a safe home, away from a family that didn’t understand him and hurt him, but he also knew that right now Will was hurt and maybe not thinking rationally and Tom just needed to be sure.

Wills shoulders sagged and he said: “You’re right. I’ll think about it some more, but please, promise you will think about it too.”

“Of course. I promise.” Tom said, then they turned back and headed towards the house.

In the house they were greeted with: “So, Tom, did you enjoy the tour of our neighborhood?”

Tom startled for a moment, then he said: “What? Uh, oh, yeah, I did, Mrs. Schofield. It’s good for me to stretch my legs.”

Mrs. Schofield scoffed and went back to her cooking. From the side Polly came out of the living room and quietly told them to ignore her mother and come sit with her on the couch. They did and watched Jane and Mary play with two dolls. Tom smiled at them and said: “You have two really sweet daughters.”

Polly smiled: “Thank you, they can be a handful, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. They’re good kids.”

Will also smiled, but stayed quiet and listened to his sister and his, well how would he classify Tom? Brother in arms, friend, lover? He glanced at Tom, who was just saying: “Yeah, I have an older brother, his name is Joe. He looks just like me, just a bit older.”

For a second a dying Tom flashed over his eyelids, but then he blinked and there was just a laughing, living Tom there. He shook his head and focused back on the conversation. Polly asked: “Are you and Joe close?”

“Yeah, actually. I signed up for the war, because he did it first you know. We live in a small town, not a lot of other kids around, so you automatically spend a lot of time together.” Tom answered, “Are you and Scho close?”

Polly frowned a bit, then she connected the Scho to her brother and answered: “Well, I guess. He was a quiet kid, you know. He liked to read and live in his own little world while I preferred to run around and be home late, but we stick together, well, we did, anyway.”

Will looked up and said: “It wasn’t my fault that my leave was over, Pol.”

Her face softened a bit and she said: “I know, but after, George, I just, I just don’t understand why you signed up too.”

“Everyone in the factory looked at me, like I had done something terrible by not signing up. They told me I should be more like George and protect my family, so I did. Simple as that.” Will said with a shrug.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Polly asked, Will didn’t respond.

The silent staring match was broken by Mrs. Schofield, who called for dinner. The dinner itself was awkward and quiet, the only words spoken were the ones said while saying grace.

After dinner Jane and Mary were put to bed, but not before uncle Will had told them another story. Will panicked and looked at Polly, who gave a sigh before agreeing, then Will turned to Tom who gave him a smirk before saying: “Why don’t you tell them about that time we found the treasure while digging the trenches?”

The treasure itself hadn’t been that exciting, it had been an old barrel, more exciting had been the fact that they had gotten shot at while digging although that was also pretty routine. While he told the story the barrel turned into a treasure chest and the shooting turned into others trying to steal the treasure. When the story was done, Jane yawned: “A lot of people tried to steal in France.” then she was asleep.

Will smiled and tucked her in again, he did the same to Mary. When he came back into the living room, his mother had already retired to bed apparently not interested in a son that has left, but Tom and Polly were already sitting there with a cup of tea waiting for him. Will sat down and Polly asked: “How much of that was true?”

Will shrugged and said: “Digging trenches was something pretty regular, we did find a barrel once, which got everyone pretty excited.”

“Yeah, they thought it’d be filled with booze.” Tom laughed.

“That they did.” Will smiled.

“And was it?” Polly asked, when they looked at her for a second, she clarified: “Filled with booze?”

“Oh no, moldy apples instead.” Tom said, “We threw them at the Germans, so in the end it was a bit of fun we got out of it.”

“And the people, who tried to steal them?” Polly asked.

“That would be the Germans shooting at us.” Will explained.

Polly got big eyes and Tom reassured her: “Don’t worry, we made it and besides, getting shot at while digging is just what happened. It wouldn’t be a war otherwise.”

Polly didn’t look reassured, but she dropped it in favor of asking: “When did you guys meet then?”

“That be end 1916, right?” Tom asked.

Will nodded: “They had just send in the fresh faces to fill the trenches after all the people who had been killed at the Somme.”

“Jup, I was as hell nervous to be there, especially with all these veterans there, but I found Scho here when I was fleeing from the noise.” Tom told her, “He had been sleeping under a tree instead of in one of the tents.”

“Outside, Will, really?” Polly gasped.

Will shrugged and said: “It wasn’t as if the tents were much better, the only difference was that you shared it with someone who had as much time for hygiene as you.”

Tom giggled and said: “You are such a princess.”

“Am not.” Will pouted.

“Yes, you are.” Tim said and poked him.

Will put up a finger in warning and said: “I will not hesitate to punch you in the face, stop it. I’m not a princess for not wanting to be caked in sweat and dirt sleeping in a small space with someone else also caked in sweat and dirt.”

“Whatever you say, whatever you say.” Tom said.

Polly laughed silently at the two squabbling together. Will threw Tom another glare, but stayed silent. Tom saw this as an invitation to continue his story: “Anyway, so he is sleeping outside and I’m walking there, when I stumble over him. He just looks at me and doesn’t say anything, so I tell him why I’m here and plop down next to him.”

“Because you have no manners and don’t care to ask if your company is wanted.” Will ribbed him.

“My company is always wanted.” Tom shot back.

Polly cut in and said: “Come on, Will, you otherwise would have no friends. You would have said nothing until you came back.”

“Exactly.” Tom said, smirking at Will over the fact that the others sister was taking his side and not Wills. It earned them both a small glare, but Will didn’t protest. Tom then said: “I just talked until we both fell asleep and after that I just bugged him until he talked to me.”

“What was the first thing he said to you?” Polly asked, curiously.

Tom grinned and said: “He told me to piss off.”

Polly exclaimed: “Why would he do that?”

“Because the fucker wouldn’t stop talking about cherry pie and it was making me hungry.” Will defended himself, making the others laugh.

Will looked at Polly and Tom laughing and thought to himself: I wish I could live in this moment forever, laughing with the people I love about something stupid. He smiled softly and listened to Tom telling Polly a bit about the daily routines and after that about Myrtle and her puppies that he got to see when he got home. His happiness was burst when Polly asked: “So, did you come back together?”

It was an innocent question, but the memories of April 6th and 7th were not something Will would ever forget. Holding a dying Tom and having to leave him behind while thinking he had died was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Not even mentioning the collapsing cave, the head shot, the chase, the river, the bodies, the top of the trench, getting stopped and almost not getting listened to.

Tom immediately noticed him retreating back into himself and grimaced. Polly now also noticed the change in the atmosphere and asked: “What happened? What did I do?”

Tom gave her a sad smile and said: “We were send on a mission together. He, I, uhm. I got stabbed and was assumed dead, Scho finished the mission without me and only found out I was alive more than a month later. We looked each other up once he was also back on English soil.”

“Oh, I’m, I’m sorry.” Polly said unsure.

“It’s alright. You didn’t know.” Tom reassured her.

“Yeah, it’s alright, Pol.” Will managed to choke out, then he said: “I’m gonna go, yeah.”

And then he stumbled off to bed, collapsing on the mattress in an exhausted heap. He didn’t look back to see if Polly or Tom followed him. He also didn’t undress, just collapsing and laying there, still afraid to close his eyes.

Meanwhile Tom and Polly shared a concerned look. Tom sighed and said: “He told me what happened, but very globally without much details and even with that I don’t know how he survived all that. You shouldn’t take it personally that he doesn’t want to talk about it. I can now joke a bit about getting stabbed, but when it happened, I thought I was done for. Schofield, he was there, held me until I passed out from the shock, although at the time we both assumed the worst. You don’t just forget something like that.”

It pained Polly to hear a bit about what her brother had gone through, knowing that she couldn’t do anything about it. She felt the tears well up, so she quickly wiped them away and said with a shaky voice: “Well, that was enough for tonight, wouldn’t you say. Let’s just go to bed.”

Tom saw in her the face Will made when he didn’t want to talk about something, so he let her be and said: “I think that’s a good idea. I’ll check on, Scho, before going to bed, don’t worry.”

Polly nodded and went into her room, while Tom did the same with the room he and Will shared.

He saw Will lying there, still fully clothed and sighed. He sat down on his bed and grabbed Wills foot unceremoniously, then he started to untie his laces. Will had kept his eyes focused on the far wall, obviously not looking at Tom, from the moment Tom had walked in, but now he slowly turned his head to Tom and quietly asked: “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure you’re not going to bed fully clothed, you dumbass.” Tom replied.

“You don’t have to do that.” Will said.

“I know,” Tom said quietly, “but I want to.”

So Will let him. He let Tom take off his shoes and unbutton his shirt, helping him out of it in the process, then he stood quietly while Tom helped him step out of his pants. Tom also helped him into a nightshirt before forcing him down and draping a blanket over him.

Distantly Will felt embarrassed, but he also didn’t care. He didn’t expect the emotional sucker punch of coming home and the question of his sister. He felt a bit like he had done, when he had first read his discharge notice, afraid and out of his element. He remembered to whisper a small goodnight, before Tom nodded off, but then he stared to his ceiling waiting for sleep to take him. He longed for arms wrapped around him, but he knew it was too dangerous.

That night Schofield slept terrible. His arm hurt even though it was no longer there and nightmares followed him the entire night, just bad enough to rouse him every hour, sweating and breathing erratically, but not bad enough to wake up Tom with him. He was glad for that last fact, but when the shadows in the corner formed corpses or enemy pilots with sharp knifes, he always had to stop himself from caving and waking the other for a bit of comfort.

When he was awoken again at five in the morning, he decided to stay away and wait for Tom to wake up. He sat up and leaned against the wall, looking at the rise and fall of Toms chest. He didn’t notice the sleep taking him again until he woke up to the sound of traffic outside.

He blinked and tried to connect the sounds of war to the peaceful room, when he gotten to that point a new fear gripped his heart, the bed was empty. He quickly got of the mattress and shoved his legs into his pants, while tugging off his night shirt and leaving his hastily put on shirt hanging open, not even bothering with shoes. He threw open his door, startling Polly, and asked: “Where’s Blake?”

Spurred on by his urgent voice, she quickly said: “He’s getting us bread.”

The answer threw Will for a loop and he asked: “Why is he doing that?”

“Well, mother couldn’t and I needed to get the girls to school, so you would have to do it, but he offered to go instead to let you sleep. He said you needed it.” Polly explained.

Will let out a breath of relief he didn’t realize he was holding. Polly then noticed his state of dress and said: “Button your pants and shirt. You’re not a heathen and our guest could be back any minute and you know how mothers feels about dressing properly..”

He looked down and swallowed, he hadn’t wanted to tell his sister or his mother about his shortcomings, but it didn’t seem like he had a choice. So he awkwardly asked: “Could you do it?”

Polly gave him a strange look and he looked down to the ground as he said: “I can’t- I can’t do it, not anymore, so I- I need you to do it.”

He bit his lip and met her gaze. She had a look of pity and understanding in her eyes and Will wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but he couldn’t, so he stood there and waited. After a second Polly put down the broom she had been holding and walked over to him. She hadn’t helped him with his buttons since he was seven and she ten. The silence was tense and when she had buttoned his shirt she asked: “Should I, should I do your pants as well?”

He shook his head and forced out: “I can manage, thank you.”

She nodded and they both stepped away. Polly went on with sweeping the room and Will stuffed his shirt in his pants and buttoned it up. He went back into his room for socks and his shoes, deciding that stuffing his laces into the side of the shoe instead of asking Polly to do them was good enough for now.

He walked back in and helped Polly set the table, it was awkward and neither met each others gaze or said more than necessary. It was broken by Tom, who came back and either chose to ignore the tension or didn’t notice it. He greeted Polly and told Will: “Look who decided to wake up.”

Will blushed: “You shouldn’t have let me sleep or done my tasks, you’re a guest.”

Tom shrugged: “Yeah and you helped us with my mothers orchard, so I think it’s only fair that I help out here too. Besides I have a walk everyday according to the doctor, so it was good for me.”

“Still.” Will argued weakly.

“Scho, drop it. When I woke up, you were sitting upright, like you had fallen asleep while sitting and you still have bruises under your eyes. I slept well, for a change, I can use that to let you sleep for a few more seconds too.” Tom said with an air finality.

Will dropped it, ignoring Polly's pitting look.

They ate breakfast and Will asked what Polly was going to do now. She said: “Mother is already her job, she had gotten yesterday off to pick you up and I only have to work later. I have a position at the hairdressers, but they open at noon.”

Will nodded, he felt bad that both of his family members had to work, because there wasn’t a provider anymore. He should provide for all of them, but as a cripple he didn’t know if he ever could.

Tom asked: “Do you like working there?”

Polly shrugged: “It’s alright, I suppose. I earn well, so I’m saving up until I can get a house for me and my girls. I was hoping at the countryside. Living there seems like a dream. Me and George always fantasized about opening an inn together, you know.”

Underneath the table Tom poked Wills calf with his toes. He hadn’t forgotten the conversation of yesterday. Polly didn’t notice and Tom said: “Then you have to come up and visit my mother one day. She always wanted a daughter, sadly she got me and my brother. She’d love you and the girls.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Polly smiled, “So what about you? What are you two going to do today?”

Will didn’t react, still deep in thought. His confession to Tom had slipped his mind with everything that happened after, but now he was reminded again. The way the busy streets made him uneasy, the way it smelled made him sit on edge and the way the walls of their tiny flat closed in on him. He wanted to go, go far away from here, but he couldn’t, not without a reason.

He sighed and looked up. It was only then that he noticed Tom and Polly's expectant faces. He blinked a few times and asked: “What?”

Polly rolled her eyes and Tom teased: “Dreamer.”

“Shut up, I was just thinking about-” Will cut himself off, but Tom knew what he meant.

Will turned to Polly and said: “I think mother wants me to look for a job, but I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know, Will?” Polly asked, concerned.

“I don’t know if I want to stay.” Will said quietly.

With a broken voice Polly asked: “Why? Why do you want to leave us again?”

“I don’t want to leave you, Pol.” Will said, equally broken, “I never said that I was going to leave you and the girls behind, but” he paused to think, “but I want to go to the countryside again, maybe leave mother here, just leave all these bad memories behind, you know. We could live with each other and the girls and they could get away from here, go to a place where they can run and play outside without someone there to drive them over. Don’t you want that?”

She floundered for a bit, before saying: “I don’t know, I really don’t know. You’re asking a lot here, Will. I have a life here and we can’t just leave mother behind.”

“You thought different about that one time.” Will shot back.

“Yeah, when I could afford to. Back with George, right now, I don’t know.” she said, “She was my back up here, when you were both gone. It was just us, for years.”

“Has she changed, has she changed at all.” Will asked, a bit aggressive, but he had to know.

Polly looked thorn and she said: “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” Will asked.

“I don’t know.” Polly answered again.

“Well what do you know?” Will yelled.

From the side Tom was following the conversation, he wanted to step in and help deescalate the fight, but it wasn’t his place and he didn’t know where to start and what they were talking about, not completely. Polly spat back: “I know that she was here, Will. Here. Where were you?”

Will looked like he had been hit by a train. He shut down, his eyes glazing over and his jaw setting. He answered coldly: “I was getting shot at in the hope of sending money home. Today I’m showing Blake London and I’ll see for myself if things have gotten better, since you can’t.”

Then he got up and pulled Tom with him. He pushed Tom out the door first, but before he shut the door behind him, he turned and said: “I still don’t want to leave you and I’ll keep my promise. Just think about it, okay?” then they were gone.

Will didn’t say anything and Tom decided it would be best to leave him on his own to get his thoughts and feelings in order. He did follow behind, while Will unknowingly went to his old hiding place he had used so many times in the past. There was field, more a small square, behind one of the factories in the district. A bunch of metal had been dumped there and left to rust, overall people left it alone, which was exactly why Will liked it so much.

When they got there he breathed in deeply. Then he grabbed a pole and threw it with all his might while letting out a scream. After that he dropped to his knees and started crying. Within seconds Tom was by his side, pulling him into a hug, while rocking the both of them back and forth. Slowly the sobs raking through his body stopped and he started to breathe normally again.

Tom maneuvered them into a more comfortable sitting position on the ground and waited until he was done with crying. After what seemed like an eternity Will hiccuped: “I’m sorry, you didn’t need to see that.”

“Hey, ho now, no need for that.” Tom said, wiping away the tears.

Will calmed some more and Tom asked: “Want to tell me what that was about?”

Will shook his head and said: “I’d rather not.”

Tom sighed then said: “Will, you got to let me in. You can’t bottle everything up forever, so please, talk to me.”

It was the please that broke him. He wiped away the fresh tears that had spilled before saying: “My mother, she- she isn’t a nice person, okay. She was strict and we could never really do anything without her say so. She hated my dad too, always fighting with him. She couldn’t even bring herself to cry at his funeral. She had wed him in the hope to get rich, but his business failed early on in their marriage.”

Now that he started he couldn’t stop it: “At first she took it all out on him, but later she also took it out on me and my sister. She was never beating us black and blue or something. She would yell, tell us she never wanted us and that we ruined her life, you know. My sister cared for me for most of my youth, because my mother didn’t want to.”

He took a deep breath, before continuing: “I was so happy when Polly found a husband, George was a good man, a commie, but a good man. Mother was not happy about it, but my dad had given them his blessing, she hated him even more after that. George wanted to leave town, they had these dreams of a house in a small village, where they’d run an inn together.”

He smiled softly at the memory and hugged his knees. He was leaning into Toms side, but he didn’t dare to look at him. So he went on: “Mother didn’t want them to go, especially after my dad died, she told them that I wasn’t fit to be head of the household and that George was supposed to do it, but we all suspected that she wanted George to stay, because he came from a well off family. There was this fight, my sister and I had planned to run away with George and the girls together, so I supported her in the fight, but it never came to pass. My mother had stolen the money we needed to get away. They had nothing, except Georges home and if George wanted to keep my sister in the house away from my mother, he had to enlist. And I had to stay behind with her. She hated my guts too, so I made myself scares after that. When George died, I knew Polly would have to go back, so I enlisted as well, but it wasn’t enough.”

Silent tears were still spilling over his cheeks. He breathed for a while until he gathered his bearing enough to proceed: “I didn’t want to visit my mother during the war, but Polly begged me to see her, she wanted to know that I was okay. So I went home during my leave. I wasn’t me, not anymore, especially not then. I scared them all more than anything. I was supposed to stay two weeks, my mother decided that was too long for me not to earn anything, so she send me out to find a temporary job. Polly protested and they fought, hard. That’s when I decided to go back early, which me and Polly fought about. She didn’t want me to go and I wanted to get away from there again. I told everyone who asked that I had been called back early.”

Then he was done, the story he was telling had been holding him together, but now that it was over he broke again. He was falling apart in Toms arms, but the soft, soothing voice that whispered sweet nothings in his ear held him together.

Once he had calmed down a bit again, Tom said: “We can leave right now. Just hop on a train and go.”

“I want Polly to come, her and the girls. I can’t leave them, I know how it felt.” Will said.

“Then we’ll stay, but promise that no matter what she says, we leave tomorrow.” Tom said, “I don’t want your mother anywhere near you, not if I can avoid it.”

Will looked at him with awe and asked: “How are you so perfect?”

“Because I have you.” Tom said and pecked him on the nose, “So do you promise?”

Will looked unsure, he said: “I don’t know, if I can, Tom. I have to be sure, she’s still my mother and if Polly doesn’t want to go I have to stay until she does. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. You say I have a big heart, but so do you. We’ll stay, but think about just going tomorrow, yeah?” Tom asked.

Will nodded and smiled: “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for.” Tom said, then he got up and went on: “I remember something about you showing me London?”

Will rolled his eyes, but allowed Tom to pull him to his feet. Then they went to the center of town and just goofed off in random stores, trying to find the most ridiculous item there. People looked at them strangely as they walked through town, but that only made them laugh harder.

It was near the end of the day when they got stopped by a man with a small notepad. He said: “Excuse me, but are you Lance Corporal Schofield?”

Confused Will answered: “Yes, who’s asking?”

“Harold, Harold Bishop. I’m with The Times and I wanted to ask you for a comment.” the man introduced himself.

Wills expression hardened and he curtly answered: “I have nothing to say.”

“Nothing about the treatment of our soldiers? The treatment of you?” Harold pressed on.

Will gave him a glare, he had a lot of opinions, but mostly he wanted to be left alone, so he said: “It’s a war. It’s naive to think no one would get hurt that I wouldn’t get hurt. I had my reasons and they are none of your business.”

Harold looked a bit shocked at the reaction, but sprung back into action when the two tried to walk away. He asked for just one quote about it, but Will ignored him. Tom saw they were attracting a crowd, he also saw that Will hated everyone right now. That’s why he turned to the man and said: “I think he said that it was none of your business.”

“And who are you?” Harold asked him.

“Lance Corporal Blake.” Tom answered.

Harold's eyes lit up and he asked: “Would you care to comment on the treatment of the soldiers.”

At first Tom also want to turn him away, but that wasn’t the objective right now, the objective was to leave the man without a story so that he would leave them alone. So Tom said: “I do, actually. I was stabbed, yet, two medics carried me for miles to an aid post where they saved my life. Like he said before, it’s a war, people get hurt, but everyone there is trying their hardest to get everyone home in one piece. So I’m going to ask you again to leave us alone. If you want to know so bad how we are treated you can enlist and walk into no mans land and see what happens.”

Harold was speechless. Tom gave him one last look, before grabbing Wills shoulder and pulling him away through the crowd that parted for them. They walked fast and silent until they were far enough away. When they were, Tom said: “That guy was an asshole.”

Will snorted and Tom went on: “Me on the other hand. I was pretty slick don’t ya think? Stopped that guy with just my words. Do you think I would do good in politics?”

Will raised an eyebrow at him and said: “You’re too kind, everyone would walk over you.”

“But you could protect me, right?” Tom said, “We’d be a team. I could do the talking, you’d be the common sense.”

With an eyeroll and a shove Will told Tom he was an idiot. Tom grinned, he knew he could be an idiot, but he made Will laugh and that was the final goal. Although it didn’t help much, because they had just turned into the street on which the Schofields lived and immediately Will quieted down.

Tom nudged him with his shoulder, wishing he could take the other mans hand. When Will looked at him, he said: “Hey, it’s going to be okay. And if they’re shit we leave and just roam the streets tonight until the stations open and we go in the morning. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time we didn’t sleep all night.”

Will smiled slightly as he thought back to many sleepless nights next to each other huddled in a trench while they got shelled and shot at, nothing to do except hope it would end and just talking to each other trying in vain to drown out the noise.

They were now in front of the door. The two shared a look, then Will squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Will pushed open the door and they entered the house.

Inside it was strangely peaceful. Mrs. Schofield was standing in the kitchen, while Polly was peeling potatoes and Jane and Mary ran around in the living room. The peace seemed to be broken by their return. The oldest of the women glared at them, while the other ignored them with hunched shoulders. The only ones that weren’t deterred by the strangeness of it all were the twins, who came bounding towards them. Jane yelled: “Uncle Will! We didn’t see you this morning, but that was okay, cause uncle Tom waved us off instead!”

Besides her Mary nodded enthusiastically. Will smiled down and asked with a smirk: “Uncle Tom?”

“Yeah,” Mary replied seriously then her sister continued her sentence, “he told us a cool story, so he is our uncle now.”

“That’s nice.” Will said, “How was school?”

“Boring.” Jane said instantly, but Mary answered: “I liked it. We did the table of seven and eight and after lunch we read in this book about a girl who got lost, but it was in this magical world and she met all sorts of weird companions like a lion and a scarecrow and I don’t know what happens next, because we’re going to read more next lesson.”

“That sounds very interesting, Mary. You’ll have to tell me what happens next when you find out, alright?” Will said.

Mary smiled and nodded happily. Then Will turned to the adults and asked: “How was your day mother?”

She pursed her lips and said: “Hopefully as productive as yours. Did you find a job yet?”

Wills muscles tensed up and he had never been more glad that he hadn’t unpacked yet, so that he and Tom could grab their stuff and leave if they needed to. He made eye contact with Tom who nodded and quietly moved closer to the room they shared. Will then answered: “I didn’t, we explored the center of town instead.”

Mrs. Schofields eyebrows shot up and she remarked: “Are you ever planning on making yourself useful or are you and your friend going to leech of us for forever?”

“No, we will go soon and leave you to your own again. Don’t worry.” Will answered, fighting to keep his voice level.

Sharply she said: “Where will you be going to then?”

“Back North, to Blakes home.” Will told her.

“And does his mother allow you to sit around like a useless lump.” Mrs. Schofield said with disdain in her voice.

Tom answered this one: “My mum allows any friend in her home for however long is needed, besides out in the field anyone could use some help. Especially now that most of the men are gone.”

Mrs. Schofield hummed, but didn’t comment. Instead she said: “Lets talk about this later, when the children are asleep.”

Will let out a little sigh of relief, this would give him time to think about how he was going to defend them, and replied: “Sure.”

Then they lapsed into silence, none of the Schofields were good at talking and today, after everything he had heard, Tom didn’t really feel like trying to make small talk with them, so he kept quiet and watched Will as he watched his nieces. There was a smile on his face, it was small but it was there, tugging on his lips and Tom silently hoped that Will would be able to keep on smiling forever.

The dinner was also silent, at the start Jane had tried to start up a conversation about the story she and Mary had come up with for their dolls, but when it became clear that none of the adults were going to listen, she huffed and ate her dinner in silence as well.

It was after they had tucked the two girls in that the played civility was thrown out of the window. Mrs. Schofield turned to Will and said: “What on earth is the meaning of this?”

Will decided to play dumb, so he asked: “About what? My tea?”

Tom had to bit on his cheek to stop the snort of laughter trying to escape. Mrs. Schofield was not as amused, she spat: “No, about you leaving. What are you thinking?”

Schofield scratched his head and said: “I’m thinking that the city is stressing me out and I have to go. I don’t want to be here and I think I am old enough to decide where I go. I wanted to leave before the war and you didn’t want me here then, so I thought you wouldn’t want me here now. I am going and you cannot stop me.”

She frowned and said: “I did not want you here and if you’re going to be like this you don’t deserve to be wanted here. If you are old enough to decide where you go, you are old enough to take some responsibility for your family. We can provide for ourselves now, but you need to help your family as well. So man up and get a job.”

“No.” Will answered, “I do not need to deserve to be wanted. I am leaving this city and going to the countryside. I won’t leave my family, because I will gladly take my sister and nieces with me. It’s just you I have a problem with and after everything I am not going to put up with you anymore.”

“I am not something you have to put up with, I am your mother.” Mrs. Schofield snapped back.

“Well then you should have fucking acted like one.” Will said, he was now committing to this. He didn’t want to stay here, his mother was still the same and now he had somewhere to go. He had wanted this since he was little and now he was going to do it, he hoped he could get his sister to join him and otherwise he would have to come back later for them. This was where he left and it felt exhilarating.

“I don’t want you in my house if you go.” Mrs. Schofield said.

“Then I’ll leave now.” Will retorted.

“You’re a coward.” Mrs. Schofield told him.

Will threw up his hands and said: “I don’t care. What do you even want from me? You don’t like me, why do you care if I go. You managed fine while I was gone, you don’t need me and I am happy to be gone.”

“You’re happy to turn you back on us.” Mrs. Schofield snarled.

“No, happy to turn my back on you.” Will told her carefully.

“You should have died in those trenches. You spineless fool.” she spat at him.

“I did die in those trenches, we all did. I’m not a spineless fool, I’m a fool who signed up for a useless war and I’m a fool who decided to come back here when I clearly should have stayed gone. I am leaving this place, I don’t care if it’s now or tomorrow, but I am gone.” Will all but roared back at her.

Tom decided that this was his time to move, so he pulled Polly from where she had been frozen next to him and took her to her room. He said: “Have you decided if you want to come with us, because if you do I suggest you start packing now. I can help if you want, but we have to move.”

Polly looked at him with wide eyes. She said: “I don’t know what to do.”

Before Tom could answer two girls sprung into their mothers arms and Jane said: “We’re scared, mommy. She’s yelling like before and we don’t like it. We always have to be quiet and she yells at us when you’re not here and that’s scary. She’s scary.”

Both were crying and Polly tried to soothe them, while she did that she locked eyes with Tom and said: “Lets start packing, quickly.”

On the other side of the door the argument was raging on. Mrs. Schofield yelled: “You’re as useless of a man as your father was. Always were a coward.”

Will seethed: “My father was a good man, the only thing he did wrong was staying silent and listening to you. I am not going to do that, not anymore.”

Will had been silent for most of his life. He had been silent when his mother spat insults as easy as she breathed when he was a child, he had been silent when his father died, he had been silent while the shells fell all around him, he had been silent while his fellow soldiers screamed in agony, he had been silent until he had met Tom and now he wasn’t going to be silent again.

“Are you hearing yourself? You’re hiding behind doing the right thing, but in reality you’re just scared. Just face that fact instead of hiding behind a war.” she yelled.

“I’m not fucking hiding!” Will screamed, “I came here and I faced you. I hoped you changed and I was willing to give you a fucking chance, but you’re the same. A greedy witch who doesn’t deserve a family.”

“If you leave you will never see any of your inheritance. Not one penny.” Mrs. Schofield countered.

“And you won’t see any more money from me. You’re going to die, alone and no one is going to care, because you made sure you aren’t a person people care about. I’m going to walk away whether you like it or not and I’m not going to regret stepping out that door, but you are.” Will said with a cold voice.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Tom with Jane on his back, bags in hand, next to him Polly also carrying some bags and a scared Mary on her hip. The two small girls were crying, but Polly looked determined. They were standing by the door, ready to go, so instead of waiting for his mother to reply he turned away and left, ushering Polly out the door before allowing himself the satisfaction of slamming it shut.

The small group hurried down the street before they granted themselves a second to breathe. Will turned to Polly and said: “You came.”

She smiled watery at him and said: “I did.”

Will slumped into himself and swayed forward. Without any hands free, Tom stepped in front of him to catch him once he toppled over. For a second he allowed himself to rest his head on Toms chest. Neither man saw Polly’s look.

Then he straightened himself up and said: “I did it. I wasn’t silent.”

“I saw. Finally used all those banter skills I trained you with.” Tom teased with a smile.

“Asshole.” Will said, but a smile played over his lips. He then turned to Polly and asked: “What made you decide to come?”

“My girls, they were so scared of her and I know what it’s like to be scared of her and I don’t want that for them.” she answered.

“I’m glad you did.” Will whispered, afraid that if he said the words too loud they might float away and disappear into the sky.

“I’m glad I did too.” she whispered back. Then she looked over the empty dark street and to the girls, who had fallen asleep after all the crying, and asked: “So what is the plan now?”

Will shrugged, the plan had been to stay awake all night, just walking around, but with two children and a woman not used to that sort of thing with them the plans had changed. Luckily Tom knew what to do: “We’re going to the station and we’re going to sit on a bench. You and the girls are going to sleep, while me and Will keep watch. The station opens at seven o’clock, so we’ll leave then. We won’t have to wait for long until we can leave.”

“Outside? All night?” Polly asked with a concerned frown.

“We have blankets in our stuff.” Will said, “You can use them. We’re pretty used to this kind of thing, so we’ll manage. I know it sucks, but tomorrow it’s over.”

Polly sighed, she had made her choice and there was no going back. So she allowed Will to take Mary from her and let herself be led to the train station. There was indeed a bench and she was parked in the middle of it, flanked by Will and Tom, who each held a girl in their lap. Their bags were set down by their feet and blankets were spread out over them.

Sitting up, Polly found she couldn’t sleep. She looked at her brother, who was watching the world around them with a calculating gaze. She turned to Tom, who was slouching a bit, but his eyes just as attentive. She didn’t want to think about what they could have seen that turned them into these alert beings. Tom caught her looking, but misinterpreted her gaze.

He said: “Don’t worry, we’ll watch over you. You know this one time we were on watch from twelve to three, but the guys who were supposed to release us never showed, turns out they had died in the surprise attack that afternoon and no one had bothered to find a replacement for them. So we’re sitting there and they don’t show and we’re not allowed to leave our post. It becomes clear that they’re not going to relieve us and I get ready for even more boring tired hours, but then Scho here nudges me and he has a pack of cards. Now I tell him we’re not allowed to have distractions while on watch, but then he looks at me and with a smirk he tells me that we’re technically not on watch anymore and that they should be glad we’re even there. That night we stayed up playing cards until the six o’clock watch came. We were never caught with our cards.”

Will leaned forward so that he could look at Tom and said: “That’s his long way of saying that it’s alright. We’ll keep watch.”

Polly smiled: “Thanks, but that’s not what’s keeping me awake right now.”

Concerned Will asked: “Then what is?”

“Is it true?” she asked.

Both boy frowned in confusion, so she elaborated: “What you said to mother, about having to go because the city is too stressful.”

Will cringed, which was answer enough, but he still said: “Yes, it’s the noise. The cars sound German planes flying overhead, the people like the shouting of Germans while they attacked and I can feel this boys throat under my fingers when I hear the fire of the factories crackle.”

He had gotten a distant look in his eyes as he thought back to what happened, he didn’t even realize what he had confessed until Polly said: “You strangled someone.”

She didn’t sound accusingly, but Will looked down guiltily anyway and said: “I was on a mission. There was a German soldier, I had to get past him, I tried to be peaceful. I told him to be quiet after I’d pinned him to a wall, but he started yelling when I removed my hand. There was a fight, I lost my rifle and knife. He died still trying knock me out.”

“Was it worth it?” she asked softly.

“Depends on how you define worth it. The mission saved 1600 British men, but I still see his face in my nightmares.” Will replied, equally soft.

Tom now recognized the story as their mission of April 6th, he placed it as probably Écoust. Will hadn’t told him how they found him when he was trying to get away from the town after he had met the woman, but he bet that this was the guy. He himself thought it was worth it, the killing of this man saved Wills life and with that also Joe's life and the rest of the Devons, in his book that was a good thing. Polly still looked conflicted, but she didn’t comment any further. Tom didn’t blame her, she hadn’t seen war, she couldn’t know how small a moment between life and death could be.

After that she tried to make herself comfortable on the bench. She curled up in Wills side and laid her head on his shoulder, but she couldn’t fall asleep. She looked at Will and said: “Remember when we were little and I used to tell you that rhyme until you fell asleep when you had a nightmare?”

Will nodded and she asked: “Could you tell me the rhyme, just so I don’t have to focus on my thoughts?”

“Of course.” Will said, and in a soft voice he started reciting:

“They went to the sea in a sieve, they did,

In a sieve they went to sea:

In spite of all their friends could say,

On a winter’s morn, on a stormy day,

In a sieve they went to sea!

And when the sieve turned round and round,

And every one cried. ‘You’ll all be drowned!

They called aloud, ‘Our sieve ain’t big,

But we don’t care a button! We don’t care a fig!

In a sieve we’ll go to sea!’

Far and few, far and few,

are the lands where the Jumbles live;

Their heads are green and their hands are blue,

and they went to sea in a sieve”

By the time he came to the end Polly was asleep, breathing even and calm, her head sagging down. Tom and Will said silently for a few minutes, until Polly’s sleep was so deep, she wouldn’t be woken by their voices. Only then did Tom dare to ask: “How are you feeling?”

Will rubbed his face and answered: “I honestly don’t really know. I thought I would feel happy and elated that I managed to leave, especially with Polly and the girls, but I don’t know. I feel empty, I guess, tired and a bit done.”

Tom nodded and said: “If it helps, I’m proud of you for going.”

He reached over Polly to take Wills hand and squeezed it for a second. He felt Will squeeze back and the other said: “Thank you. You know I never asked if your mum minded me coming over again.”

Tom shrugged and said: “My mum would take in anyone. She wanted to have a five kids at least, but then my dad died and she never loved again, but she would want this. She already loves you, sometimes I think more than me. It’s gonna be fine.”

Will blushed and said: “She doesn’t love me more.”

“Yeah, she does. She told me that you were precious and that I should look out for you. She only told me and my brother that about the other. And according to Joe, she used to say it about dad. Also she gave you her homemade hot chocolate and that’s a secret Blake recipe.” Tom said and grinned, “Sorry, Scho, but you’re a stayer.”

Will wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. Mrs. Blake was the sweetest woman he ever had the pleasure of meeting and he desperately wanted her approval, so the fact that she liked him was enough to make him smile like an idiot.

“What are we going to do, though?” Will asked, “Me and Polly can’t stay at your house forever, people will talk and we do need a job, or at least I do, to help your mum and thank her for everything. But I don’t know what I can do with this useless arm.”

“Calm down. It won’t help if you worry yourself into a grave.” Tom said.

“How can you be calm right now?” Will asked.

Tom said: “I’ve always seen the future as bright. We made it out and got discharged, we’re going to my mum and a town where everyone who could help in a field has gone and harvest season is coming up. We can help, you can help, even with one hand. We might even get your sister that inn she always wanted and people won’t talk, really. We just have to be careful.”

Will shook his head. Of course, people would talk if he and his sister stayed at the Blake house for the rest of their lives. It wasn’t normal and people would notice, but if Tom believed then maybe he could too. Just so everything wouldn’t be so bleak. He said: “We will.”

Will could feel the silence nag on him, he didn’t want it to be quiet, because then his thoughts would be able to take over, but he also didn’t feel like talking. It was as if Tom could read him like an open book because he said: “Did you hear about Russel and the barrel?”

Will shook his head and prepared himself to listen. Tom smiled and started: “Well, Russel hated doing a food run, but he had pissed off Sargent Sanders so he had to. He was grumbling about it when someone, I reckon it was Atkins he is one rascal, gave him the bright idea to hide. Russel hears this and finds this an amazing idea. He decides to hide in a barrel, but he doesn’t do that the smart way.”

Will smirked and asked: “Is there a dumb way then?”

Tom nodded enthusiastically and said: “Course there is. Instead of standing in it and crouching, like a sane person would do, he just sits on it and allows himself to sink down. Problem with that is that you can still see his feet and hands, Russel is quite a tall fellow and those barrels aren’t that big, but also you can’t get out. He got stuck.”

Will snorted quietly, careful not to jostle Mary in his arms or Polly on his shoulder. Tom grinned and went on: “But that’s not the end. Because Sargent Sanders finds out Russel is hiding from him and didn’t do as he was told. So now is Russel not only stuck, but also in deep trouble. It takes a while, but Sargent Sanders find him and, man, is he mad. So he starts yelling and Russel, telling him that he’s as useful as a cowshit, no, that cowshit is more useful, because that at least fertilizes the fields. Meanwhile Russel is trying to defend himself, but his voice sounds all funny since he’s still stuck in the barrel. Sargent then realized Russel is stuck, so he kicks the barrel and it falls, Russel still in it. Then he starts to roll the barrel and you know how Russel can get on trucks and carriages, yeah?”

Will nodded, he has seen Russel on a truck, sadly he was sitting next to the man when everything had gone wrong. He grimaced at the memory and continues to listen to Tom: “So Russel vomits all over himself as the Sargent is rolling him towards the edge of camp. Then he says ‘I’ll come for you tomorrow, keep watch’ and walks away. Russel spend the entire night in that barrel with the vomit, just watching the tree line at the West.”

“Are you serious?” Will asked.

Tom nodded: “Yeah, Scott told me when we were cleaning the Mess together. He witnessed the entire thing. Says they had to break the barrel to get Russel out.”

“Unbelievable.” Will said, with a head shake.

“I know right.” Tom answered.

The mood had brightened significantly and the two fell into comfortable conversation along with equally comfortable silences, alternating each other. As the night progressed there is less conversation and more silence. By the time the sun starts rising and the first people start their days both boys are nearly falling over from exhaustion.

Will decided to wake Polly up, before too many people could see her asleep on the bench and judge them. She blinked groggily and said: “Ugh, my neck.”

Tom and Will laughed, effectively shaking enough to wake Jane and Mary. Mary looked around with a confused look and Jane asked: “Why are we here?”

Polly answered: “We’re here to catch a train. We’re going on an adventure.”

“Really?” the two asked in unison.

Polly nodded then she stretched and yawned. Instantly the two men copied her. Will blinked tiredly and Tom stated: “I’m going to sleep so hard on the train.”

Will mumbled his agreement and Polly looked guiltily, the two had stayed awake to watch over her and her children. She apologized, but Will told her it was okay and that he was going to buy them some breakfast. Then he left her and Tom on the bench with Jane and Mary to pack up the blankets.

She looked at Tom and asked: “How was the night?”

He gave her a smile and said: “I was alright. Me and Scho just talked for most of it, reminded me of the war a bit, which was nice.”

“Nice?” she asked.

Tom shrugged: “Most of it was horrible, but sometime we would have nothing better to do except sit around and wait. I never realized how much of war was just sitting and waiting, but it’s boring. So we would sit next to this tree, it was our tree because we always sat there, anyway, we would sit against our tree and talk or play cards. Well, I would do most of the talking, but Scho would throw in a comment here and there and after a while he told me a bit about himself. Like that he came from London and that he was the youngest sibling. Didn’t pin him for that, so that was kind of a surprise, but it was nice you know.”

Polly could get that the talking had been nice between all the violence, but she couldn’t understand how it was nice when they also could have slept for the entire night. Then again, she didn’t wake up in sweat, panting over ghosts that haunted her. Polly just nodded and pretended to understand. Luckily Will came back with a bit of bread, which they ate before heading to the station and buying five tickets up North.

In the train Tom and Will fell asleep immediately. They were sat next to each other and in their sleep Will rested his head on Toms shoulder, while Tom rested his on the top Wills head. Polly gave them a bemused look, but she couldn’t delve to deep into the touch, because Jane had just stated that it was boring that the two had fallen asleep and that sleeping was for the night. So Polly had to stop her from waking them up.

They were almost near Toms hometown when Wills brow furrowed. The furrowing of his brow was soon followed by the tightening of his lips and then by the grinding of his teeth and the twitching of his fingers. It was only because Polly was watching him that she noticed this and she was just wondering why her brother was tensing up in his sleep when his eyes shot open and he gasped for air.

By shooting up, he hit Tom, who was now also awake and looking around dazedly. He rubbed his cheek and tried to find what had woken him up when he saw Will. The man had his eyes shut tightly and his chest was heaving, but still he wasn’t breathing. Within seconds Tom was also on the ground and by Wills side. He grabbed the sides of Wills head and said: “Scho, Scho, Will! Listen to me, it’s not real, whatever you’re seeing it’s not real. You need to breathe for me, Will, or you’re going to pass out.”

Polly didn’t know what was happening, one second ago her companions had been sleeping peacefully while Jane and Mary were pointing out things that rushed by and now there was a panicking Will that Tom was desperately trying to calm down. Jane and Mary had buried themselves into her sides as they watched their uncle with wide eyes. Polly did the only thing she could and held them as close as she could while she prayed Will would be back to normal soon.

Tom was still trying to soothe Will and wiling him to breathe. He had taken Wills hand and put it on his chest while was breathing in deeply. His other hand still holding Wills face. He asked: “Can you open your eyes, please. Will, open them for me.”

“I can’t.” Will choked out.

“Why not?” Tom asked, glad he had finally made a connection with the other.

“Dust.” Will cried, “Can’t breathe.”

A penny dropped in Toms mind and he started saying: “Yes you can breathe, there’s no dust. You aren’t in those tunnels, you’re in the train. You’re in England. There are NO collapsing tunnels, just me and you with a lot of air that you can breathe. You’re not in the tunnels, you’re here. Just open your eyes and you can see it for yourself.”

Wills breathing steadied a bit and he managed to open one eye. When he saw Tom, Tom did his best to smile at him and pointed at the blue sky outside the train window. As Will saw that his breathing calmed down even more and he repeated to himself: “Not in the tunnels.”

Tom nodded and agreed: “Jup, just in plain old England.”

Will sagged and Tom caught him and hefted Will back onto the train seat. He would much rather hug Will close and card his hands through the dark blond curls while he whispered soothingly into his ear, but that would be too dangerous in this public place with his sister nearby. So he had to settle on making Will comfortable against the side of the train carriage.

When he was done with that he turned to Polly and the twins and smiled reassuringly. Jane tentatively asked: “Is uncle Will alright?”

Tom nodded and said: “He is, just got scared and needed to be reminded where he was.”

“Why did he forget?” Jane asked.

“Sometimes when you sleep, you see memories and when you wake up, you sometimes don’t realize that you aren’t in your memory.” Tom explained, Jane still looked confused, so Tom decided to try something else, “Have you ever fallen asleep in class and when you woke up, you thought you were in your bed at home, because that it where you usually sleep?”

Jane nodded and Tom said: “Well, it’s kind of like that. You understand.”

“I understand.” Jane said.

“Good.”

Polly said: “I think, uncle Will, would like a bit of water when he wakes up again. Could you two maybe see if you can find any?”

The two girls nodded eagerly, happy to help and ran off without a fuss. Once they were gone Polly turned to Tom and worriedly asked: “What the hell just happened?”

Tom sighed sadly and said: “We saw a lot, back in France. Sometimes when we sleep we dream about things that happened, bad things, if you wake up from it, it’s sometimes really hard to snap out of it. Will gets hem more often than me and it sucks every time, but there isn’t much we can do about them.”

Polly gasped: “That’s terrible. What did he remember?”

Tom debated if he should tell her, then decided that it would be best if he did now so that she wouldn’t make Will relive it again when he woke up. He said: “During that mission we were on together. We had to go through the German tunnels. It was a trap, they had destroyed the trenches so we would take that route and than they laid down a tripwire with explosives. It went off and Scho ended up under the rubble. I pulled him out and started running while everything was collapsing around us. Scho couldn’t see a thing, dust in his eyes, he also couldn’t breathe properly. Must have been scary, hearing everything fall, but not being able to see and having to trust that I was pulling him out of there and that I wouldn’t leave him in there to save myself.”

Polly had gotten a bit white as Tom told her about their near miss at the start of their journey. He knew Will had faced a lot afterwards, but Tom also still dreamed about it and he couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for Will.

It seemed that Polly didn’t know what to say, so Tom told her: “He doesn’t want to talk about it, no one does. If I were you, I’d leave it alone. I know you’re curious, but I don’t think you want to hear.”

They were then interrupted by Jane and Mary, who had gotten hold of a cup of water and were proudly showing it to the adults. Tom took it with a thank you and sat back down next to Will. He softly shook his shoulder and after a few shakes the other woke up. Tom offered him the water and Will took small sips as Tom said; “Hey, there. Welcome back. How are you?”

Will took another sip and gave him a thumbs-up, not in the mood to talk. Tom nodded and said: “That’s good. We’re almost at the station and then just a small walk home. Think you can handle that?”

Will put down the empty cup and nodded. “Great.” Tom said, “Maybe mum will have baked cherry pie. She always does after the harvest, she didn’t get to do it before we left, but maybe she did now. Wouldn’t that be nice. A slice of pie and then to bed.”

As Tom talked the color returned to Wills face and by the end of it he had a small smile on his face. He now also noticed the others and ducked his head in embarrassment. Jane noticed and gave him a hug as she told him: “I will carry your bag, uncle Will. Don’t worry. Those memories won’t get you, just like school.”

Will frowned confused and Tom let out a small laugh. Mary was now also hugging Will and said: “I’ll help too.”

“Well, aren’t you two little helpful and loving ladies.” Tom proclaimed.

Jane and Mary beamed at him and let go of Will. Then the train rolled into the station and everyone was distracted by gathering their stuff. Will still was a bit unstable as he stood, so Tom handed him the lightest bag. Will noticed and gave him a glare, but didn’t argue.

Polly and Tom took the rest of the bags and when they were on the platform, Jane and Mary demanded that Will gave them the bag, so in the end he was carrying nothing, which Tom was grateful for. He knew how exhausted those attacks could leave you and he didn’t want to strain Will too much after that episode, especially when they had slept so little.

As they walked home Jane and Mary took great joy in pointing out things like the small windmill, the grain fields and the church. Polly was also just breathing in the fresh air and smiling. She had always wanted to visit the countryside and now she was here, with her brother and her kids, the only thing missing was her husband, but she could feel his spirit with her.

Tom and Will were just concentrating on setting one foot in front of the other. Both of them were tired and if they weren’t used to walking while dead on their feet, they would have collapsed a while back.

In the end they did get there. Tom surprised Mrs. Blake a lot when he threw open the door and yelled: “I’m home and I brought company!” without realizing she had been in the hallway by the front door.

Once the initial shock was over she flew around his neck and hugged him close. Then she let go to hug Will just as tightly and she said: “It’s so good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Blake.” he answered with a tired smile.

“And who are the other guests?” she asked, while turning to Polly. She introduced herself as Polly did the same with her and the kids, who had hidden themselves behind her skirt.

Tom quickly explained: “We kinda ran and I am going to explain that better, but me and Scho stayed up for the entire night so we’re going to take a nap and when we wake up I’m going to explain this properly. I promise. Sorry that we barged in.”

Mrs. Blake didn’t mind. She said: “If they’re friend, they’re welcome. Besides, I just baked a cherry pie and these two little misses look like they could eat a slice, isn’t that right?”

Jane and Mary smiled shyly before nodding. They, along with Polly, followed Mrs. Blake into the house while Tom and Will went upstairs to sleep for a few hours. When they got into the bedroom Tom noticed that they had forgotten to separate the beds again, he also noticed that the sheets were different, which meant his mum had seen the beds. He blushed and hoped Will wouldn’t notice. He didn’t, instead just collapsing on the bed and toeing off his shoes, before immediately falling asleep. Tom shrugged and joined, letting the darkness take him as well.

Meanwhile downstairs Jane and Mary had eaten their slices of cherry pie and had gotten permission to explore the backyard, which they eagerly did. Mrs. Blake and Polly were still sitting in the kitchen with their tea and Polly apologized again: “I’m so sorry for the intrusion, we don’t want to be a bother. We can go to an inn or pay you for our stay.”

“Don’t even think about it, if you feel that guilty you can help around the house, but I would never ask you to pay.” Mrs. Blake answered.

“Are you sure?” Polly asked one last time.

“Yes, I’m sure. Will and his family are more than welcome here and I am sure you have a reason for the sudden arrival.” she said.

Polly nodded and explained: “Our mother wasn’t all to keen on Wills behavior when he got back. We both have always wanted to go and I guess the war or Tom finally gave him the confidence to stand up to her. She threw him out after that and I decided to go with him, instead of staying behind with her.”

“Oh, my poor dear.” Mrs. Blake said, “That must have been a horrible experience, I’m glad my Tom was there to take you here.”

“Yeah, he’s been a real help and it’s nice to see that Will finally has a friend.” Polly agreed.

Mrs. Blake nodded, then she said: “They are quite close, aren’t they.”

Polly sighed in relief and asked: “So you noticed as well? I mean, I don’t want to assume things, but they’re never too far away from the other.”

“No, they stay close.” Mrs. Blake replied.

“Is that going to be a problem for you?” Polly asked, “Because I’m willing to talk to him if it is, we wouldn’t want to overstep any boundaries after you’ve so kindly taken us in.”

“It isn’t a problem at all. Will gave me my Tom back.” Mrs. Blake elaborated, “He was so quiet when he came back, lost the liveliness he had always had and had all those nightmares. His stories that he always loved weren’t as well received and he turned into himself, but then he got that letter from Will and he was in a right state. All bustling about and telling me about his friend and how he should come and visit, because he didn’t want to go home yet and needed some space and we had space. Then when Will arrived he was such a gentleman and soon Tom didn’t have nightmares anymore.”

“I can’t imagine Tom being quiet, if I’m being honest.” Polly said, then she asked: “When did you figure it out?”

“I’m afraid that I only started thinking more closely about it when they had left. Here let me show you.” Mrs. Blake said and she got up.

Polly followed her up the stairs to one of the rooms at the start of the hall, the door hadn’t been closed yet and she could see Will and Tom on a bed. Upon closer inspection she saw that is were two beds, pushed together. Will was on the right, lying on his back. Beside him lay Tom, he was also sprawled on his bed, but he had his right arm tucked under his head and he was looking towards Will, even with his eyes close.

They were about to leave again when Will scrunched up his nose and started to move. Both women held their breaths and watched as Will rolled over in his sleep. He rolled to the left and ended up with his arm thrown over Tom and his head neatly slotting into the space on Toms chest under his chin. The arm that had been tucked under Toms head moved once Will had settled in. It came down to give Will a side hug. Their legs were now also getting tangled together and both sighed a bit in their sleep, before lying completely still again as if nothing had happened.

Mrs. Blake smiled and quietly closed the door and the two walked downstairs. When they were on the bottom of the steps she turned to Polly and asked: “So, when did you start looking more closely?”

Polly thought about it for a second, then she said: “I think I started looking right after we left home last evening. Will was swaying a bit on his feet after the fight with our mother, Tom had his hands full, but he still caught Will with his chest, letting him rest there for a second before we moved on. It was confirmed when Will had a nightmare on the train. Tom was there to calm him down, luckily. I wouldn’t have known what to do. He was so tender as he did. Made me think of my husband, you know.”

“Is your husband still away at the war?” Mrs. Blake asked.

Polly shook her head sadly: “No, he died back in 1914. They said he died as a hero, I got a medal send home.”

“Oh, you poor dear.” Mrs. Blake said as she pulled Polly into a hug. Polly leaned into it gratefully, she could understand why Will wanted to go back to this place, this comfort and this warmth.

After that they talked, well, Mrs. Blake talked for most of the time while Polly made little comments and listened. They didn’t wake the boys up for the lunch, which Jane complained about a lot, but Mary nodded silently and said that she understood. The two girls loved that they could run outside and the trees, the two blabbered on and on about until they were allowed to go out again. Mrs. Blake and Polly then set up everything for the night. The Blakes had a big house, so there was room enough for the small family in the guest room, where there were two beds, one single and one queen. Polly decided that the twins could share one and thanked Mrs. Blake again.

Only when dinner was ready were the two soldiers woken up. Polly decided that it would be best if they didn’t know she had seen their sleeping arrangement, so she just knocked at the door and yelled: “Make yourself decent. Dinner is ready.”

Inside the room Will and Tom slowly came to their senses, they had slept quite well and the bone deep exhaustion now was replaced by contend sleepiness. Tom was the first to wake properly and he smiled when he saw Will frown and burrow farther into his chest as he groaned about a few more minutes. Tom ran a hand through his curls and said: “We need to go downstairs, love. We don’t want them to come investigate what’s taking us so long.”

Will opened one bleary eye and whined: “Why.”

Tom poked him and rolled him off his chest. “Because, love,” Tom answered, “that’ll be a bit compromising. So go on, up you get.”

He pulled Will up by his hand and smiled at the small yawn. Will looked around the room and blinked slowly a few more time, his brain seemed to catch up with everything and he sighed as he stood up. Both boys checked themselves over. They were still clothed, so they didn’t have to worry about that and they decided that shoes weren’t necessary for dinner, so they made their way downstairs.

They had just started dinner when Tom said: “So, I should probably explain why we just showed up, uhm, just all together. Like, so soon.”

“You don’t have to explain, dear.” Mrs. Blake said, “Polly and I talked, she explained the whole thing, I’m glad you’re all okay and here.”

“Oh, good.” Tom said, he hadn’t really thought about what he was going to say to his mother, but the fact that he didn’t have to surprised him a bit, he gathered up his thoughts and asked: “So, what did all of you do while we were out?”

Jane perked up immediately: “Me and Mary played outside, you have trees and it’s amazing, so we pretended to be princesses of the forest and there was a dog, Mrs. Blake says her name is Myrtle, and she was lovely, so we petted her. Then there was lunch and we weren’t allowed to wake up two up, which was boring, but that was because you two were tired and Mary understood that, I didn’t, but I suppose Mary is right, probably. After that we played outside with the dolls, they’re now on holiday and they’re think about moving to the countryside together.”

Tom nodded, bit confused by the wordvomit that was thrown on him, but Will just laughed, he had gotten used to hearing rambling he couldn’t really follow when he befriended Tom. Mrs. Blake knew what to say: “Really, on holiday? Where are your dolls from then, dear?”

Jane bounced a bit in her seat when she realized there now was an adult that wanted to listen to her stories, so the rest of the dinner was filled by her excited chatter. Tom let his gaze glide over the table and rested his eyes on Will, who was smiling softly at his niece. It suddenly hit Tom that he hadn’t seen Will this relaxed since before he got the letter from his mother. Will felt him looking and met his eyes, when he saw the loving look Tom gave him, he smiled back and blushed, before ducking his head and refocusing on his plate.

After dinner Polly put the girls to bed, deciding that that had been enough excitement for the day, while Tom and Will did the dishes. Will washed, slowly and careful not to break anything, and Tom dried and put everything away. As Tom was putting away a plate he asked: “What are we going to do now? We got our whole lives ahead of us, but what do we want to do with it?”

Will furrowed his brow as he mulled over the question. After a few seconds had passed he said: “I thought we could look for job, earn some money to help around the house. I hope I can eventually afford to give Polly her dream and maybe have a small house in the woods or in the village.” he took a breath and glanced around, “Maybe share that with you, if you’ll have me.”

Tom beamed at the words and looked around quickly before throwing his arms around Will. He pressed a quick kiss to Wills cheek and said: “That sounds like the best plan. I’d love to share a small home with you.”

“One day.” Will said, “We have a lot to do before we can get there.”

Tom rolled his eyes, but agreed: “One day.”

Then they heard a noise, so Tom quickly let go and went back to the drying. Not a moment later Mrs. Blake entered the kitchen, she smiled at the duo and started helping putting the dishes away. When they were done with the dishes, Mrs. Blake shooed them to the living room and started making tea.

Will and Tom took the couch, where Myrtle also joined them, while Polly and Mrs. Blake both sat in one of the big chairs. They quietly sipped their tea for a few moments, then Polly said: “The girls are out like lights, seems all the new experiences and the excitement made them tired.”

“I’m glad they like it here.” Mrs. Blake smiled, then she went on, “It seems like only yesterday that Tom and Joe were that small, but now they’re both all grown up.”

“Mum.” Tom said in a warning tone, but Mrs. Blake went on: “When they were little they used to run around the orchard and pretend to be explorers of the jungle. It was always so cute. This one time Tom here climbed into a tree, pretending to follow an unique animal.”

Toms eyes got big and he started to stop his mum, but she went on happily: “And he got stuck up there, he knew how he had gotten in, but not how he would get out.” Tom groaned and Will couldn’t help, but chuckle a bit at his misfortune, “Luckily Joe was there to help him, always so thoughtful and kind, always wanting to help.”

Mrs. Blake got tears in her eyes and Polly put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Tom sighed and said: “I’m sure, he’s okay, mum. You know, Joe, he’s always fine, I promise. He’s going to come home alive, I’m sure of it.”

Will kept himself away from the conversation, he knew he wasn’t the most eloquent with emotions. Although he shut his eyes softly at Toms words, he knew the younger man couldn’t make that promise. The war was an ugly thing that only took and never gave. Joe might be a good fighting man with the will to survive, but that may not be enough. Tom always did believe though, he believed in the good they did, in their survival, their future, but it almost wasn’t enough, he almost died in Wills arms and Joe, Joe could die as well. That was the reality, the reality no one ever really wanted to face.

Mrs. Blake calmed down a bit and wiped away the tears, she apologized for her sudden outburst, but Polly quickly said: “Don’t apologize, it’s hard to miss someone like this, with all the uncertainties and unknowns. I get it, but you just have to trust in the other. They do what they have to do and they’re trying their hardest to come home, all we can do is wait for them.”

“Aren’t you a wise one, dear.” Mrs. Blake smiled.

Meanwhile it was suddenly hitting Will that Polly had also been through a lot while he was fighting in France. She had been alone, with just their mother for comfort when the word of Georges death reached her and Will had gone there too. He had gone to the place her husband died and he had rarely written her, leaving her without reassurance that he was still alive, that he hadn’t been taken by the war like George had.

Mrs. Blake excused herself: “I think I’m going to turn in for tonight. I’m quite tired.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Blake.”

“Goodnight, mum.”

“Yeah, goodnight. Mrs. Blake.” Will checked back into the world.

“Goodnight, don’t stay up too late.” Mrs. Blake said, before disappearing up the stairs.

Will was still turning Polly's words over in his head, so after it had been quiet for a few seconds he said: “Hey, Pol, I’m sorry for not writing you more.”

She looked startled for a moment, then she asked: “Why do you that all of a sudden?”

Will shrugged: “Just never realized- with all of my own stuff that you’ve probably also been scared all by yourself, just here.”

Great that was just great, very well said Will, Will thought to himself. Luckily this was Polly and she knew what he meant. “I know,” she said, “but it’s not just you. I mean, I don’t know what you’re life has been like these past years, so I guess we’re even on that front.”

Will chuckled, but didn’t verbally respond, Tom did. He said: “I can help you with that, ask away.”

Polly raised her eyebrows, but didn’t argue, instead taking him up on the offer: “Well, let’s see. What did you eat?”

“All sorts of things, really. Mostly meat and vegetables.” Tom answered, “Stuff like tinned corned beef was pretty popular, but we also had mutton broth and potato pie from time to time. Most of it was disgusting”

Polly nodded: “And did you sleep in the tents?”

“No,” Tom shook his head, “I did at first, but they stank, so when Scho told me he just slept outside and it was fine I did as well.”

“And it really wasn’t uncomfortable?” Polly asked.

“Of course it was, but there’s not a lot of other options.” Tom shrugged.

Will piped in: “It wasn’t that bad, Tom just likes to overreact.”

“Not true.” Tom huffed.

Will raised an eyebrow, not gracing him with an answer. Tom turned to Polly and said: “I’m not overreacting, everything was at least mildly uncomfortable, but maybe it was all that bad. Everything was just damp from the dew and cold.”

“At the end it wasn’t, waking up with the sun was kind of nice.” Will argued.

“Yeah, that was indeed pretty nice,” Tom agreed, then he got a smirk on his face and said: “but I distinctly remember you complaining for a few more minutes every time I tried to get you up.”

Polly laughed: “At least that hasn’t changed.”

Tom got a glint in his eyes and Will felt where this was going, but he was too late to stop the question from tumbling out of Toms lips: “What was Scho like when he was younger? Beside the quietness. Did he do dumb shit? He must have, right?”

As an older sibling, Polly immediately sensed the opportunity to embarrass Will. She got a matching glint in her eyes and answered: “Well, he was a quiet kid, I think he read the entire library by the time he stopped going to school.”

“Wait, you didn’t finish school?” Tom asked.

Will shrugged: “My dad got sick, so we needed the extra money, now can we please not do this. Polly, I’m begging you.”

“Hmm, let me think about it.” Polly didn’t even pretend to think, “Nope. Anyway, he read a lot of books and he also read Dracula, do you know it?”

Tom nodded as Will groaned, only encouraging Polly to go on: “So little Will read this book and thought it was real. God, he was so scared that they were coming to get him, when he was done he hid in my bed for three nights in a row, it was adorable.”

“Are you serious?” Tom giggled, not believing that tough-as-nails-survived-the-Somme Will had been that scared of a simple book. Will pouted and said: “I was young, okay. Are you done laughing?”

Tom schooled his features, but Polly continued: “But it doesn’t end there.”

“Nooo, do you have to tell that?” Will, honest to God, whined.

Polly ignored him: “We were at Mass and the preacher is telling us about the danger of Satan and his vile workers when he suddenly get up and loudly asks what he should do when a vampire comes after him. I thought mother would die from anger, all that blood rushing to her head, meanwhile dad is not a help at all, because he thinks it’s all hilarious. The whole church was looking at him and the preacher was so confused.”

“Oh my God.” Tom wheezed.

“Yeah, I know, but it get better.” Polly said.

Out of breath Tom asked: “How can it get better?”

Will has just shut his eyes and laid down, defeated. This was the only time he had spoke up and said something, ever and it haunted him still. Why Polly though it was a good idea to bring this up ever single time was beyond him, he only knew he hated it every time she did. He mused that that probably was why she kept bringing it up, but he was willing to ignore the thought in favor of going back to dying of embarrassment.

Unaware or uncaring of Wills defeat, Polly said: “Will misinterpreted the preachers confusion, so he starts to explain what vampires are and how he had read that they feared the Lord, so if one was after him if he could come to the church for weapons against them. Then as he is still standing there, the preacher explains to him that vampires aren’t real, meanwhile the whole church is just staring at this small child, who interrupted Mass to ask about vampires of all things. It was the talk of the neighborhood for weeks.”

Tom was laughing, but he managed to say: “That is amazing.”

Will grumbled a bit, but if his pain would make Tom laugh like that he supposed he could be in immense pain for the rest of his life. He kept up his grumpy attitude as he said: “I preferred this conversation when it was just questions about the war.”

“Come on, don’t be such a sourpuss.” Tom grinned and ribbed him in the side with his elbow.

“I can ask some more questions if you want.” Polly said, “For example, what was strangest thing you saw?”

Both thought about it. Tom said: “Hmm, that’s a pretty hard question.”

In Wills mind memories of dead cattle, dead soldiers in impossible positions, rats the size of his head and the abandoned baby flashed by. He said: “I don’t think you want to know.”

“Why not?” Polly asked.

Will didn’t know what to say, maybe that everything strange he had seen was violent, because violence was the only thing there? But that sounded a bit dramatic, he had seen Tom there, so it hadn’t been that bad. Tom said: “Because, Scho isn’t, what one would call, a positive thinker, but I know a good one! I saw one guy get shot in the chest and just walk away from it unharmed. That was pretty strange.”

Polly’s eyes got wide and she asked: “How did he do that?”

“Turns out he had a cigarette case and it stopped the bullet, it was some sort of miracle.” Tom explained.

“Oh yeah, I think I heard that.” Will said, “That was Main, right?”

Tom nodded: “That was him. Lucky bastard.”

“Do you know what he did with it?” Will asked.

“No,” Tom shook his head, “but I reckon he sold it, I mean, I know a lot of guys who’d see that as a good luck charm.”

“I don’t know, maybe he kept it for himself.” Will said.

Tom shrugged: “Maybe he did, yeah.”

There was a lull in conversation, until Polly quietly asked: “What was it like? The fighting, I mean.”

“Polly.” Will said, in a tired and warning voice.

“What is it, Will?” Polly said, “No one talks about, they’ll talk about the food or the things they did when they were free, but no one is talking about what made them wake up screaming or stop writing. No one is talking about and how can I ever understand what you went through if you don’t tell me what happened to you? I just want to know what changed everyone and everything that’s all.”

It was quiet in the room after her little speech. Will was silent, he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t want to think about, he didn’t want to remember and he most definitely didn’t want to try and find the right words to talk about it. Tom struggled for a bit before saying: “It’s really hard to find words to describe it, most of it is just confusion and fear.”

Tom moved his hand as he tried to find better words, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t often that Tom didn’t know what to say. Will could feel himself drifting away and he tried to ground himself by focusing on Polly and her awaiting face. There was a mixture of concern, determination and fear for knowing on her features. Will could feel his own face harden as he said: “The only word to describe it is terrible, okay. Now, drop it, please.”

Polly lifted her chin, she got up and said: “I’ll drop it, but only for now. It isn’t healthy to keep everything in. One day you’ll tell me something and I’ll be waiting for that day. Goodnight.”

She walked out of the room and both men were just quick enough to call a goodnight after her. When her footsteps had disappeared up the stairs, Will allowed himself to slump into Toms side, resting his head on Toms peck right over his heart. He listened to Toms stead heartbeat and watched as Tom rhythmically stroked Myrtles head.

After a few moments, in which his muscles relaxed bit by bit, Tom opened his mouth: “She took that well.”

Will let out a small huffed laugh, then he adjusted himself until his head was lying on Toms lap and he could look the other in the eyes. He smiled and said: “I think you’ve been a bad influence.”

Tom gave him a look and asked: “Have I, now? How come?”

“Well,” Will answered, “You never know when to shut up and stop asking, she used to be also quiet, like me, maybe not as bad as me, but you know, not talkative. Then you showed up.”

Tom laughed at that, then he said: “I am happy I cured her then.”

“Cured her? Cursed her, more likely.” Will grumbled without any heat.

“You don’t mean that, love.” Tom said, “I cured you too. It’s almost hard to imagine how quiet you were when I first met you.”

Will nodded silently, back then he hadn’t said a word, believing it was useless to form connection with people who were doomed to die. He still preferred to listen, but by befriending Tom he had become better at talking and storytelling, or that’s what he liked to think.

Will was playing the evening in his head and he suddenly blurted out: “I called you Tom, do you mind that?”

“Of course not.” Tom answered, a thought seemed to cross his mind, “Do you mind that I called you love?”

Will blushed at the nickname, he had noticed how it unconsciously slipped out of Toms mouth and the fuzzy feeling it gave him was something he didn’t want to loose, so he hadn’t mentioned it. He shyly said: “No, I don’t mind.”

Tom hummed happily and smiled down at Will. He was brought out of his trance by an unhappy Myrtle, when Will had started talking he had accidentally stopped petting her head and now she was protesting with an unhappy sound. Both men made eye contact, then they started laughing. Tom went back to petting Myrtle as he told her: “You are one impatient dog, aren’t you. Yes, you are. Getting grumpy the moment the attention is gone. Well, don’t worry, I got a lot of affection and attention for you, yes, I have. Yeah, good girl.”

They continued to lie on the couch until three in the morning. Neither man wanted to face the nightmares sleeping would bring and both were still rested enough from their nap that day. In the end they decided to go to bed, because they had been nodding off on the couch and it was a bad idea to sleep like that in the open.

Tom was already in bed, but Will was standing by the foot of the bed and asked: “Shouldn’t we move the beds apart, just to be safe?”

Tom looked at their bed, which consisted of the two beds shoved together. He thought about it, but then shook his head: “Nah, no one will come barging in for no reason and if they do we can tell them it is so that the room is less crowded. We need space, we’re used to that kind of thing now with all the fields we used to sleep in.”

Will looked unsure, but he crept into the bed none the less, not even pretending to go to sleep on his own side. Instead he crawled into Toms open and waiting arms and allowed himself to get tangled up with his partner in everything. He was about to drift off when he heard Tom whisper: “I’ll protect you from the vampires, don’t worry, love.”

If Will had more energy, he would have gotten up to argue, but now he cracked one eye open to glare at Tom. Then he said: “I hate you.”

Tom smirked and said: “No, you don’t.”

Will inclined his head in such a way that he could softly kiss Tom then he sighed: “No, I don’t.”

And with that both fell asleep.

The next morning Tom startled awake with a small gasp, it was around 6 o’clock and his dreams had been haunted by an accusing dead brother. With his sudden movement he had also woken up Will, who was blinking groggily as he asked with a sleep heavy voice: “Are you okay?”

Tom sighed: “I think so, just a nightmare, don’t worry.”

“If anyone knows how shit nightmares can be, it’s me. So are you okay?” Will said.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really. Just worried about Joe that’s all.” Tom replied.

Will nodded and tried to find some way to comfort Tom without giving him false hope. In the end he settled on saying: “Joe can handle himself, I wasn’t there for long, but I saw how capable he is. If someone is making it out alive, it’s him.”

“Thanks, love.” Tom smiled and settled into his pillow again.

Will watched Tom stare at the ceiling without noticing it, he was too deep in thought. Will bit his lip and asked: “Think you can sleep some more or do you want to get up?”

He could see how relieved Tom was that he proposed the option first. He said: “I’d like to get up, but you can stay here and I can call you for breakfast.”

“No,” Will shook his head, “I’ll join you.”

They got up. Will put his arms through his shirt and put on his pants, then he waited until Tom was dressed enough to button his shirt and put on his socks. Tom tied his own shoelaces, while Will buttoned his pants and shoved his feet into his shoes, not bothering with the laces.

No one was downstairs yet. They puttered around in the kitchen making tea for themselves. They drank in silence, just soaking in the morning and the others presence. When they had put their cups by the sink Myrtle came running up to them, glad that her morning walk buddies were back. Tom tied Wills laces, while Will wrote a note, then they walked out the house and into the sun, making their way to the woods nearby.

When they reached the woods, Tom slipped his hand in Wills, giving him a small smile that the other returned. The sun was barely filtering through the leaves and the birds were just starting to chirp. Myrtle darted around their legs, seeming content. Tom filled the air with pointless chatter, pointing out random birds, flowers or trees, Will nodding along.

They reached a small clearing and Tom threw a stick for Myrtle. They waited as she bounded after it, Will now tentatively said: “Hey, Tom, I’ve been wondering, uhm, are you okay?”

Tom raised a brow at him and asked: “Why are you wondering that?”

“Well,” Will rubbed the back of his head, “I know I’m not dealing the best, I mean, I’m doing better and everything, but I still have nightmares and stuff and I know you have too and, I don’t know, I just realized that I haven’t been there for you the most, you know.”

Toms expression softened and he pulled Will into a sideway embrace. He said: “I’m doing fine, Will, don’t worry. I’ve been having some nightmares, of course, but it’s honestly not so bad. Everyone reacts different, I guess I’m lucky.”

Myrtle came hurdling back, with a different stick than Tom had thrown. Tom took it from her and praised her as he threw the stick away again, watching her run away. Will leaned his head on Toms shoulder and said: “Okay, just tell me if it gets bad. Promise?”

“Promise, love, promise.” Tom murmured before kissing his crown.

“Thank you.” Will sighed as he soaked in his lover.

When Myrtle had gotten a stick three more times, they turned back and walked home. They were still walking hand in hand, it had become a habit for them to walk with Will on the left so that Tom could grab his hand whenever he wanted. Will loved it every time, when he could feel Tom slip his fingers between Wills and how perfectly it fit time and time again. Sadly they had to let go when the reached the edge of the woods and walked back into civilization.

At the Blake home, Mrs. Blake was waiting for them outside waving something white. When they got closer they could see it was a letter and when they were within hearing distance she yelled: “Joe, it’s from, Joe!”

Tom smiled and started running, Will and Myrtle following his lead instantly.

He took the letter and started reading it aloud

June 6th 1917

Dear mum and Tom,

I hope that when you receive this letter everything is alright. I’m fine, everything here is mostly the same, bad food and no beds.

Last I heard from you you told me Lance Corporal Schofield was staying there. You told me about the paper debacle. How is he doing after all that? Hopefully better than when I last saw him, although it is hard to get worse than that. Good to know that he heard you’re alive, Tom. Say hello to him from me. You also mentioned that he lost his arm, how did that happen?

Your words of encouragement are really good to hear out here. It seems like spirits dampen with every day that passes, but I have hope that we’ll be home soon. We’ve been fighting for so long, there must be an end in sight.

I honestly don’t know how to go on from here, there is not much to tell. The only things worth mentioning would only serve to upset you and I don’t want to frighten you. It’s nothing too bad, just war and the monotony of life in the trenches. Who knew war involved so much waiting?

You also mentioned that all Myrtles puppies have been sold, I hope she isn’t too upset about it. She always had a soft soul and in these quiet moments I miss her company.

Anyway, how are you all over there? Did a lot happen since you last wrote or is life there as easy as I remember?

I hope to hear from you soon,

Yours,

Joe Blake

When Tom was done he looked up with a smile and said: “This letter is only three days old! He must be fine. That’s great!”

Mrs. Blake smiled back, tears in her eyes, and replied: “He is, oh he doesn’t know how well timed his letter is. I was so worried.”

After a beat of silence Tom asked: “Hey, mum, is it alright if I write my own letter? We can put it into one envelope of course, but it might be nice for him if he got two letter instead of one and a lot has happened since we last wrote him.”

“No problem, dear.” Mrs. Blake said, the boys didn’t see her knowing look.

Tom have her a quick hug and a thanks, then he rushed into the house to gather his stuff to write back. Will hurried after him yelling: “Tom, you still have to eat.”

Mrs. Blake heard a “Later!” coming from up the stairs and she rolled her eyes fondly at her energetic boys antics. She gave Will two plates with breakfast for the both of them to bring upstairs, which he took gratefully. Before he went, he turned around and asked: “Where are Polly and the girls? I just realized I haven’t seen them.”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. They’re out to the market. I needed some stuff and they wanted to explore the town.” she told him.

He nodded and murmured a thanks before hurrying up the stairs.

In the room Tom was sitting at his desk, focused completely on his writings. Will took a moment to admire him, then he quietly walked forwards and put down the plate, holding his own in his hand. Startled Tom looked up and smiled guiltily. Will shook his head fondly and moved to the windowsill to sit there and eat as he looked out over the orchard. Tom took this as a sign of forgiveness, because he went back to his letter while absentmindedly nibbling on his toast.

He found that it was quite hard to not spill too much about his time with Will and how things had progressed, so he looked his letter over when it was done.

June 9th 1917

Dear Joe,

It’s amazing to hear from you again! We were just starting to get worried, so your timing was perfect.

Yes, Scho is still staying with us, but we’ve been to London between letters. It didn’t pan out the way we planned, so now his sister, Polly, and his two nieces, Jane and Mary, are staying here as well. It’s become quite lively around here, if you’re not here soon we might replace you. I’m joking of course, you’re presence here is missed, but don’t worry we have left your room alone.

It’s going well. We’re pretty close, since he’s living in my house now. We’re sharing my room, like we used to when we were younger. Because he can’t and doesn’t want to go home, he’s decided on staying here. We’re going to see if anyone needs a hand and is willing to pay for it.

You also make me curious about the state Scho must have been in when he showed up to the 2nd Devons, because you make it sound like he was on deaths door. And Scho isn’t much of a sharer, so I’ll never get the real thing out of him. He told me briefly that his journey had been anything but fun, which was to be expected. Yet he never told me the extend of his injuries.

As for the paper thing, it seems like he’s mostly okay now. He did get harassed by some people on the streets and a reporter and his mother also seemed to have opinions about it. He didn’t like the attention, but I made sure the reporter wouldn’t have a new story, so it mostly died down again, thankfully.

He did loose his arm, the lower part of his left one to be precise, as far as I know it was a rogue grenade in the battle of Arras. But I don’t know specifics, so you’ll have to ask him when you see him.

I hope everything is alright with you and that you’re not in unnecessary danger. I know you don’t want to worry mum, I didn’t either, but it sounds like things are still rough there. I also know this is selfish, but when the Germans attack, please, make sure you’re not an easy target.

As for the monotony, I know what it feels like. But I’m sure there is some entertainment, maybe a bit too vulgar for mum. God knows I won’t tell her any of the stories that went around.

Myrtle is quite alright. Me and Scho are up pretty early every day, so we take her to the woods. She loves to chase sticks, but she still can never seem to bring back the right one, so on that front she’s still the same. She is also missing you, don’t worry, she hasn’t forgotten about you.

Mum will also be writing you, she knows much more about what’s been going on in town, seeing that we only got back yesterday. Mum had baked a cherry pie, which was awesome. I forgotten how good it tastes. You’re honestly missing out.

That’s it from me, I want to end by saying that you’re doing great work out there. Don’t let the rest get you down, it’ll get better and you’ll get home soon. Hold on and stay strong.

Yours,

Tom

He turned to Will and asked: “Do you want to read to check it?”

“For what would I check it?” Will asked, shifting his attention from the view to Tom.

Tom shrugged: “If I haven’t said too much or something. I don’t know.”

Will thought for a moment, then asked: “Do you want me to read it?”

Tom looked at his letter, he felt a bit bad for asking his brother about Will on April 7th, but he couldn’t help himself, he was just too curious. Yet, he also didn’t feel like hiding stuff from Will, so he decided in saying: “Well, I don’t know. I did talk about you and I asked him a quick question about our mission, so if you want to read and tell me if it’s okay, then that would be nice, but I won’t force you.”

Will stopped for a moment at the mention of their mission. He got up and leaned over Toms shoulder and quickly scanned the letter. Tom shifted a bit under his scrutiny, feeling guilty about how he had phrased that bit of the letter. Before Will could say something, Tom softly said: “Sorry.”

Will gave a kiss to the top of his head and answered: “It’s okay, I know I’m not the most talkative around. It’s good.”

“Really?” Tom asked, just to be sure.

Will nodded and collected their plates, he walked out the door and called over his shoulder: “I’m going out to see if I can find a job. Are you coming?”

Tom quickly scrambled about, folding his letter and putting it in an envelope, where his mum could put her letter as well, before getting down the stairs. Downstairs Will was already waiting for him with a smile at his hurried movements. Tom gave him a light shove then he quickly told his mum what they were doing and handing her the envelope.

They walked down the road and Tom said: “It’s now the time for haymaking, but we only have two farms here that do, so I don’t know if they need a hand, but they also have sheep there and it’s time to sheer those, so we can also try our luck with that. Otherwise we have to see if anyone is hiring, but I don’t think so, we mostly grow wheat, but the sowing season is over and it still has to grow before they need much help.”

Will hummed then asked: “What did you do? Before the war, I mean?”

Tom said: “Nothing much. I finished school then I signed up for the war effort. I was thinking about studying, but now the idea of sitting for hours in stuffy benches in confined spaces, seems terrible, you know.”

Will nodded, but inside he was wondering what Tom was giving up. Will himself had loved school, well, English. Reading and twisting language to create worlds and stories had been something magical for him and he had been quite sad that he had to drop out to go to the factory. But he knew that he could never have that and it did seem less appealing after everything, so he did understand, but he also felt a pang of sadness for the Tom that could have been if the war had never happened. A small, selfish, part of him piqued up to tell him that if the war hadn’t happened he would have never met Tom and he felt guilty how sad the idea of never meeting Tom made him, even with the circumstances it was under.

In the end their efforts were fruitless. The farms hadn’t needed help with the hay and they told them that for the sheering of sheep you’d need two hands. Tom might get a temporary job, but for Will there was no such luck. Tom felt guilty about it, so he told the farmers he’d come back later with a decision.

They were now sitting on the fountain in the town square where it was relatively empty, just a few people milling around and the elderly man, who had clapped for Tom now almost two weeks ago, sitting on a bench in the shadows. Will was staring at the sky, worrying about what he should do now. Tom noticed this and tried to comfort him: “It’s going to be alright, okay. There are lots of other things to do in a town and I’m sure someone needs help and could use a guy.”

Dejectedly Will said: “Yeah, a guy with functioning limbs maybe. I never really thought about it, I mean, sure it sucks, but then I found out you were alive, so it was a bit better and then I realized a lot of people had it far worse. Some didn’t come home other can never see or walk again, so really I shouldn’t complain, but this sucks. How can I help my sister or your mum when no one will even hire me? Face it, Tom, I’m good for absolutely nothing.”

Tom was stumped. He had never seen Will like this, sure he had seen moments when self-loathing was interwoven with what he said, but never this explicit. He didn’t know how to react to make it better and he didn’t want to upset Will even further. He made an aborted movement as he tried to find his words. Before he could the elderly man from he bench had gotten up and walked over, he said: “Hello, I didn’t mean to interrupt or eavesdrop, but I couldn't help, but overhear your conversation.”

Will looked up, a small spooked yet hopeful expression on his face. The man went on: “I’m Charles, Charles Lester from Lesters Bookshop and I think I can help you out. I am getting old, you see, and I need someone who can write, see and has two legs, you seem to fit in the category, do you not?”

Will nodded: “I do, but…”

There was a lot he wanted to say, like he couldn’t carry a lot with one hand, he never finished school, he might be a waste of time in the end, but before he could tell Charles why he shouldn’t be hired Tom jumped in: “He does, thank you so much, sir. He is pretty smart, a hard worker and he can walk that’s for sure. You won’t regret it.”

Charles smiled and said: “That sounds promising, you can come in tomorrow at eight if you accept.”

Tom elbowed Will in the side and Will quickly answered: “I’ll be there, thank you so much, Mr. Lester.”

“Just Charles is fine.” Charles tipped his hat and waved goodbye as he started to make his way down the street.

Will looked at Tom and asked: “What just happened?”

Tom smirked and said: “I was right, someone could use a guy.”

Rolling his eyes Will replied: “Yeah, yeah, you were right and I was wrong.”

But he couldn’t stop smiling, he had a job and not just that, he had a job in a bookshop. He always wanted to be in a place with lots of books, maybe he could even read a bit at the job or earn enough to buy some books for himself, this was almost too good to be true. Tom saw Will smile and decided that he was going to make sure nothing would make him stop smiling.

It wasn’t a lot and there was still a lot wrong in the world. The war was still raging on in France, Joe wasn’t home yet and he might never be, their love was still illegal and their families may never accept them. But right now things were looking up, this was the start of their new life, the first brick in the wall that would become the rest of their life.

No, it wasn’t a lot, but for now, it was enough.

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