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trulymadlysydney · 7 years ago

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You Bring Me Home

Alex had been told his entire life that when a person is about to die, their whole life flashes before their eyes. But in that instance, that wasn’t the case.

As he reached up, grasping at the black water and cursing the life vest that was doing nothing for him in this moment, he remembers thinking of her.

tw: I guess any tw that goes with the film (drowning mention, death, war, etc etc) PTSD.

***PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION***

He hadn’t wanted to call her.

Actually, to put it more accurately, he hadn’t wanted to bother her. But truthfully he didn’t know who else he could’ve called.

When the train had made its first stop to let a few of the other soldiers off, he’d thought about calling his mother. He’d thought about going home to face his family, to see the disappointment on his father’s face. His father, a war hero. What would he tell him?

And his mother; he wasn’t ready for her to hold his face the way she had since he was a child. He didn’t want her to kiss him and shower him in praises that he didn’t deserve. All he’d done was survive, and in that case he would’ve rather died. At least it would’ve been something his family could be proud of. Telling people he’d died for an amazing cause.

But he hadn’t. He is here, however unwillingly, and he has to go somewhere.

So he’d called her. The one person who he knew would be there, regardless of anything that had happened between them in the past.

He’s almost surprised when he hears her voice on the other end of the pay-phone, although he’s unsure as to why. He had, after all, called her telephone number.

“Hello?”

She sounds the same. Her usual, cheerful self that, dammit, he had missed-- no matter how much he’d denied it.

He clears his throat, realizing he’s been silent for a tick too long. “Emily. Hi. ��It’s uh... it’s me. Alex.”

It’s her turn to be silent for a moment, and he swallows, praying she stays on the phone. “Alex?” Her voice is quiet and uncertain, almost as if she doesn’t want to believe it.

“Yeah.” Alex reaches up to scratch at his nose, a nervous tick he’d developed at a young age. He doesn’t know what else to say, and now that he’s actually speaking to her, he feels awkward and uncomfortable. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine but you shouldn’t be worried about me!” She speaks quickly, with a panic in her voice. “Where are you? Are you alright? How are you calling me?”

Alex can’t help but smile at her urgency. He picks absentmindedly at a hangnail on his thumb. “M’fine. Did you not hear the news? The pride of England has become the laughingstock.” He lets out a bitter laugh but Emily remains silent, and Alex worries that that is her sign of agreement. He clears his throat once again, and he’s about to backtrack when she speaks.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

Does he? Of course he does, and the fact that he’s alive right now feels selfish and unnecessary. But that isn’t why he called her. So he shakes his head, as if she can see him, and he changes the subject. “Listen, the reason m’callin’ is because I... I need a favor.”

“Sure, anything.” Her voice is chipper once again and he can picture her sitting in her bedroom, twirling the phone chord around her finger with bare feet propped unladylike on her desk. So pathetically adorable he wants to scream.

“Can you... I mean... are you busy?”

“I’m supposed to be studying,” she says casually. “But I’m not too worried.”

Alex smiles to himself. “Working hard then. Don’t mean to bother you--”

“No, no!” She cuts him off, almost too quickly. “No, it’s fine. My goodness, you spent your money and free time on a phone call to me of all people. You aren’t a bother at all, love. What did you need?”

He feels bad, he really does. But he does miss her, and he knows he’s got nowhere else to go. “Could you... could you pick me up from the station?”

“You’re home?!” She gasps, and Alex can hear something drop in the background. “Are you serious? You’re here? In London?”

“I am, yeah.”

“For how long?”

And this, Alex doesn’t know the answer to. He shrugs, although he knows she can’t see him. “I dunno. A while. For good maybe.”

“For good?!” The excitement in her voice doesn’t match the way he’s feeling, and he digs the toe of his boot into the gravel.

“Maybe,” he replies. “Dunno. But I do need to be picked up, and--”

“Sure, sure! Of course. I’m about an hour away from the London station. Can you wait?”

Alex glances up at the clock hanging on the wall. 3:47pm. It’ll be nearly 5:00 by the time she gets here, and maybe he can find something to eat in the meantime. “Yeah, I can wait.”

He can practically hear the smile in her voice and it makes him guilty. “I can’t wait to see you, Alex.”

He looks around at all the families and loved ones reuniting. Couples sharing tearful kisses on the loading dock. Fathers patting their uniformed sons on the back. Siblings nearly falling over one another trying to be the first to hug their brothers. None of this is his, and the thought eats at him. So all he can manage is a weak “yeah?” Which, thankfully, she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can, alright? See ya!”

The line goes dead and a dull ache finds it’s way into Alex’s stomach. He dismisses it as hunger, but he does feel awful for troubling her. A sweet, lovely girl who had no business spending any bit of her time around the likes of him.

He’s bitter, really. He knows it isn’t anyones fault, especially not Emily’s, but he can’t help it. He shouldn’t be here.

He looks down at his boots. They’re muddy. He hadn’t really given much thought to his boots over the past couple of weeks, and now he feels silly sitting here debating if Emily’s going to notice how dirty they are. He sighs, mumbling a soft “Christ” before sitting down on the bench beside the pay-phone.

No one seems to notice him, nor do they seem to care that he’s there. Everyone is preoccupied with reuniting, kissing, sobbing. Alex glances back down at his boots and spits at them-- a clear, satisfying sound when it hits the leather. He pulls the sleeve of his jacket down with his fingers and bends over to attempt to wipe the dirt off. It doesn’t help-- it just smears the mud around, so Alex grunts and sits back up.

He debates if he should get something to eat while he waits. It isn’t like he’s going to have to go far to get anything with the way the civilians are running around congratulating the soldiers with beer and sandwiches. But truth be told, Alex really isn’t hungry. He’s nervous, and he doesn’t know why.

He holds out his hand when a man walks by. A clean cut man, with a sharp hat and a fancy jacket on. In one hand are a few packaged sandwiches, in the other, two beers. “Hey.” Alex nods his head. “Can I get one of them beers?”

The man smiles, a warm smile that makes Alex want to cringe. This man knows nothing of war, Alex is sure of it. The man extends a beer out to Alex, and when Alex reaches for it he cups his hand. It’s uncomfortable, but the man seems sincere. “Thank you so much for your service, young man.”

Alex doesn’t know if he makes a face of disgust or not. He really doesn’t feel like he has any control over what he does anymore, but the man continues to smile so Alex assumes that his face has remained neutral. He glances down at his hand in between the man’s larger ones and feels strangely inadequate. When he looks up again, there’s such a softness in the man’s eyes that Alex could punch him. Instead he only shrugs. “Just doing my job.”

The man gives him a nod of solidarity before letting go and walking off, and Alex’s hand feels strange now. People really didn’t understand what he’d seen, did they? They didn’t understand what an enormous failure Alex was. No one understood. No one was ever going to.

Alex sighs, shaking his head and twisting the lid of the beer open. Of course no one was ever going to understand. Even Alex doesn’t.

Alex is just doing his job.

-----

Its 5:16pm when she finally pulls up to the station. Alex sits alone save for a few workers and people waiting for the next train to come through-- which admittedly, aren’t a lot. He finds it fascinating really, having sat here for the last hour or so and seeing how quickly life moved on. He’d sat on the train for multiple stops, watching comrades and brothers step off and reunite with loved ones. He’d spent the last two hours of the ride sitting alone on the train. He’d been received with great enthusiasm, just as he had been at every stop. But now, he’s spent the better half of an hour watching the last of his regiment brothers disappear with their loved ones. He’d watched the station fill up and empty, over and over, and it reminded him how fleeting everything was. How meaningless.

When she steps out of the car, she’s just as beautiful as he remembers. Of course she bloody is. She’s already smiling long before she sees him, but when she does, it’s nearly blinding. Her walk turns into a jog, and before he even has time to register what’s going on, she’s in his arms.

He catches her when she jumps, ever so slightly, and hugs around his neck. He hugs her back of course, but it feels wrong. He’s dirty, he’s covered in oil and she’s so pristine and lovely that he can’t believe she’s welcoming him with such a warm embrace.

Then again, he can somewhat believe it. Because that’s just the kind of girl she is.

She pulls away and he sets her down on her feet again, and when he sees a few tears pooling in her eyes, it feels like a punch to the gut. His cheeks redden and he looks over her shoulder, over her head, anywhere but at the tears he doesn’t deserve. “C’mon, love. No tears.”

She giggles, reaching up to wipe at her face. “Sorry. I didn’t think I was going to cry its just... god, it’s so good to see you.”

Alex feels a softness in his heart reserved only for her, and he hasn’t felt it in a while. He doesn’t know if he can even remember how to fully feel this way again. But he manages a smile, reaching up to wipe at the one tear that escaped and is now trailing down her cheek. “You as well.”

She grins up at him. “I’m so sorry it took me so long to get here. Cars everywhere. I think everyone was headed here to pick up the soldiers. Seems I was the last one though. Sorry about that.”

He shakes his head. He’d missed her rambling. “S’fine.”

She nods towards the car. “Shall we?” She doesn’t even wait for an answer, she just begins walking. He follows behind her as she talks. “It really is good to see you, Alex. You look great.”

He lets out a soft, breathy chuckle at this because he clearly doesn’t look great. “Thanks.”

She walks around to her side of the car but Alex freezes in his tracks. She reaches for her door handle and stops. “What’s wrong?”

“Your car. It, uh... s’nice.”

She beams. “Thank you!”

“S’like.. I mean... m’gonna get it dirty.”

She shakes her head and makes a face as if that’s the stupidest thing she’s ever heard. “Nonsense. C’mon. In you get.” She opens her car door to slide in to the drivers seat, but he still doesn’t budge.

She half giggles, half sighs. “Alex.”

It’s quickly hitting him just how much of a mistake this was. He shouldn’t have called her and troubled her to come all this way. He shouldn’t have bothered her at all. He should’ve just gone somewhere else. Spent the night at a church or something while he figured out his plan. He blinks back at her before shaking his head and trying to get out of his thoughts. “I can’t.”

She rolls her eyes but the smile on her face tells him she isn’t all that annoyed. Although he thinks she should be. “Stop being silly and get in the car. Please.”

He shakes his head, but she’s so damn persuasive and she isn’t taking no for an answer, so he groans. He walks to the car and opens the door. “So bloody stubborn.”

She giggles, sliding into her side of the car. “I beg to differ. The stubborn one is clearly you.”

He watches her as she turns the car on, fastens her seatbelt, and pays absolutely no mind to him or how filthy he is. Of course. It boggles his mind really, how she doesn’t seem to care. But she’s so lovely, so sweet, and she knows nothing of what he’s seen. He doesn’t know whether that thought makes him happy or sad.

He doesn’t bother putting on his seatbelt by the time the car begins rolling through the lot, and her radio hums quietly in the background. “Honestly, you look really nice,” she says, eyes scanning the road before her.

“Don’t have to lie,” he replies, picking at the dirt under his thumbnail.

“It’s true! You look... fit. Like a proper man. Not that you didn’t before but... my goodness. Things have changed a bit haven’t they?” She turns into traffic and reaches down to turn the radio up a bit. “So how have you been?”

The question shouldn’t infuriate Alex as much as it does, but it does. How has he been? How would anyone be after months away from home, training and working their ass off only to be made a fool of and have to return home? Having to be rescued by civilians who have less training than you? Without meaning to, he snaps. “Been bloody awful, actually. That’s how I’ve been.”

Emily’s mouth closes quickly. She regrets her question instantly, and Alex regrets his snapping. She meant nothing by her question, and he knows that. But still. How did she think he was?

She audibly swallows and bites at her bottom lip. After an awkward, looming silence, she speaks. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have asked that.”

Alex sighs, turning his head to look out the window. He doesn’t want to see the redness of her cheeks, the hurt in her eyes. He didn’t mean to hurt her like that. He didn’t mean to be rude. It just came out. After months of being around men who weren’t sensitive to that sort of thing, Alex supposes he’d gotten used to it. So he shakes his head, resting it against the car window and watching the cars around him.

It’s been ages since Alex has seen an actual car. With actual people doing real life, mundane things like going to the market or to church or to grab a few drinks with friends. It leads him to wonder if anything in his tiny hometown has actually changed since he’d been gone. Surely he hadn’t been gone long enough that things would’ve changed, and by the looks of things they haven’t. He clears his throat. “And you?”

“Hm?” Emily won’t look at him now. She keeps her eyes on the road, but her soft smile has returned once again.

“How’ve you been?” He really does wonder. He hadn’t sent her a letter in quite some time. Which was his own fault really, but still. It didn’t mean he hadn’t wondered.

And that sets her off into one of her rambling fits which, admittedly, he’d really missed. “Oh fine, fine. Been at school mainly. But it’s just ending, which means summer vacation for most of us. It’ll be nice to go home and visit but I’m loving having my own place. And I’ve picked up a job at the credit union. Mostly I just answer calls and such, but it pays the bills, you know? Mother is very happy with me having a job and being out of the house, but she says daddy misses me like crazy. So do the little ones. But all in all, I’ve been really well.”

He nods his head. “S’good to hear.” And he genuinely means it.

She turns her head and gives him an apologetic little smile. “Alex, I really am sorry for asking that.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

She chews at her lip once more, as if she has something else to say and then decides against it. She looks back at the road again, but her voice is softer. “Have you talked to your parents at all?”

Alex considers telling her the truth. Why he’d called her instead of his family. He considers opening up about everything but here he is, dirty and uncomfortable in this nice little car that smells strongly of vanilla, and he doesn’t want to feel any more vulnerable than he already does. So he lets out a heavy breath. “No.”

“No? I’m sure they’d be happy to hear from you.” She babbles mindlessly, and he wishes she would stop. “Just to see you’re okay, you know? They must be worried sick, I’m sure. I mean, I was. I can’t imagine--”

“Please Emily, for the love of God, can we not do this right now?”

This time, her mouth doesn’t close. This time it just hangs open. She blinks a few times, wrapping her head around his words. And then it closes. What does she keep doing wrong? Why won’t he talk to her? Why hasn’t he talked to them?

He lets out a groan, letting his head fall back against the seat. “Fuck. Sorry. S’just... do we have to talk about them? About what I should and shouldn’t be doing? About where I’ve been the past few weeks? Jesus.”

She licks her lips, and her eyes look sad. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Well.” Alex shifts in his seat, pulling down the sleeves of his jacket. “I’m sorry, too.”

The rest of the car ride is mostly silent, save for the traffic noises and the radio playing in the background. It’s on a station that plays mostly love songs, because of course. What else would she listen to? Alex really hates himself for calling her. They are two completely different people.

When they get to her house, she seems less awkward. She unlocks her door and beams once it opens. “Well, here we are!” she says softly. “It’s not much but, probably just exactly how you remember it.”

To say it isn’t much is an understatement, because it really genuinely isn’t much at all. But its adorable, and so her. Little knick-knacks adorn every shelf. Books are scattered along the coffee table. An empty dish, save for a crumb or two, sits unattended to on the counter. Alex can see the door to her bedroom from here, and her bathroom with one tiny shower and a toilet. It’s exactly how he remembers it, and it makes his heart swell.

Her cheeks are red. “I didn’t have much time to clean it up. I got your call and kind of just ran out of the house.” She giggles nervously. “But uh... yeah. Make yourself at home.”

He manages a soft smile. “S’nice.”

“Yeah?” She picks up the crummy dish and heads over to the kitchen sink. “It’s a nice place if you live by yourself. When you have company it’s a bit different.” The dish lands in the sink louder than Alex was expecting, and he jumps a bit. Emily doesn’t seem to notice when she turns back to face him. “Which reminds me. Would you like the bed, or the sofa?”

He blinks his confusion away and takes another step into the house. “What?”

“I mean, I don’t have a guest room. I’ve got some sheets and a few extra pillows and we could make you a nice bed on the sofa. Or you could take my bed if you’d like. I can take the sofa. Either way.”

His heart sinks at the thought of sleeping without her tonight, but truthfully he doesn’t know why’d he’d even thought that was an option. It used to be, back when she was his and he was hers. But now, he isn’t sure what they are. He purses his lips and nods his head towards the couch. “Sofa’s fine.”

She smiles. “Alright then.” She puts her hands on her hips then, surveying the apartment as if she has something important to do that she’s forgetting. It’s a bit of an awkward silence, and Alex clears his throat.

“Really is a lovely place,” he says. “Always liked it.”

“I’m glad!” She walks into the living room, where Alex still awkwardly stands, and plops herself down on the couch. “Right. So. First things first, I think a shower is in order, hm? There’s towels in the bathroom closet. You can help yourself to my shampoo, soap, anything you see in there. Consider it yours.” She’s smiling so big that it makes him smile as well. How is she so bloody adorable?

But her smile fades just as quickly as it arrived. “Oh shoot, you haven’t got any clothes, have you?”

Alex hadn’t thought about that. He looks down at his oily, muddy, still-damp clothes and sighs. “Christ.”

“It’s alright!” Emily stands up quickly. “Think I’ve still got some of your things left over actually.”

And Alex can’t help but laugh. “What?”

She smiles, walking into her bedroom and motioning for him to follow her. “Yeah! From the last time you stayed over. Before you left. Left your overnight things in a pile on my floor.” She flips on the lamp in her room, and her room is just as pristine and lovely as she is. She walks over to a drawer and continues talking while Alex surveys the room. “I have to admit, I didn’t wash them for quite a while after you left. They smelled like you.” She lets out a soft laugh, and Alex can see her red cheeks just barely while she rummages through her drawers. “Then after a while they stopped smelling like you and... well I thought, ‘Emily this is stupid’ and I washed them.”

She turns to him, and sure enough she’s holding the black T-shirt and sleeping shorts that he’d left here before he’d gone off to Dunkirk. He’d completely forgotten about those.

Her cheeks are burning red and she gazes down at the clothes in her hands. “It was stupid, I know.”

“No!” He speaks so quickly he even surprises himself, and he walks towards her. “Not stupid at all.” He takes the clothes from her and, without thinking, holds them up to his nose. They don’t smell like him anymore. They smell like her.

She gives him a shy little smile and lets out a sigh. “Anyway. There they are. You can go ahead and take a shower. Are you hungry? I can make us some dinner while you’re in there.”

His mind is still stuck on what she’d said about smelling his clothes, but he shakes his head. “No. Not really. Ate before I came.”

She narrows her eyes. “Did you actually?”

And he can’t help but chuckle. She’s always been quite the little worry-wart. “Yes. I actually did. You didn’t see all the people around handin’ out sandwiches and shit.” The curse word escaped past his lips without him even thinking about it, and he mentally curses himself for it. “Sorry.”

She laughs, brushing it away quickly. “Stop. You know you can say things like that around me. Already have a few times today.” She walks out of her room and he follows like a puppy being trained. Pathetic. “Anyway. If you’re sure you aren’t hungry--”

“M’not,” he reassures her. “Thank you though.”

She turns to face him and smile, and Alex is overwhelmed with the sudden urge to kiss her. Her smile is genuine, and she nods her head. “Okay then.”

She doesn’t look away, and neither does he. And maybe its a bit awkward but for a split second he doesn’t care. Because she’s so bloody beautiful and she’s smiling at him and he’s forgetting everything that he recently went through. All he wants is to hold her.

But then she does turn away, and the light feeling in his stomach is gone. And he’s standing there when he should’ve headed for the bathroom about ten seconds ago. So he exhales and turns on his heel to make his way into her bathroom.

Alex turns the knob of the shower all the way to hot, and the steam rises to meet his face almost instantly. He realizes quickly just how long its been since he’s had a good and proper shower, and he’s excited to feel fully clean again.

The water stings his back when he gets in and he hisses at the contact, but it feels good. His showers when he was away could hardly have been called showers, and he was lucky if the water would get warm. So to be here, the hot water stinging his scratched up back and the steam fogging up his vision, feels really bloody good.

He allows his eyes to close and lets his head fall back. He can practically feel all the oil and dirt melting off of him, and he’s certain that if he were to open his eyes he’d see that the bottom of the tub has been filled with it. But he doesn’t really care for that now.

With a sigh he allows his thoughts to drift to Emily. Her in that light blue dress that she’s wearing right now. How, selfishly, he’d like to see her out of it. Just as he had so many times before he’d left. Before things had changed.

He thinks of her, asleep beside him in her bed the morning he’d left. How she’d tried to stay awake the entire night before because “If I sleep, the morning will come sooner. And then you’ll have to go.” How she’d fallen asleep shortly after saying that, her head on his chest and the smell of her hair so prominent in his nose.

He thinks of how she’d begged him to let her drive him to the train station, and how she had sworn she was going to wake up early and make him his last proper breakfast before heading off. Even though she was an awful cook. “You’ll be getting used to war food while you’re there,” she’d said with a giggle. “You’ll miss my food and you know it.”

He thinks of how hard it had been to leave her, sleeping peacefully and none the wiser that when she’d wake up, he’d be gone. He thinks about how hard it was to make the decision to leave without a proper goodbye. He remembers how his hand had trembled when he’d written her that note by the dim morning light coming through her window.

“It’s better this way. Take care of yourself. I’ll miss you. -A.”

And he remembers that final kiss on her soft, parted lips. How he’d lingered there for as long as he could, taking in her scent and her warmth. When he’d pulled away, he’d lifted the covers a bit across her naked chest so she wouldn’t be cold. He’d placed the letter on the pillow beside her and smoothed her hair on her forehead before leaving.

It was better that way. Of course it was. If he wasn’t going to come back, he didn’t want her to remember him in a tearful goodbye. He wanted her to remember them, tangled in the sheets, making love for what felt like the millionth time that night and sharing sleepy kisses and nonsensical ramblings. He wanted her to remember that he was a good man. A bit hard around the edges, but good to her. Always good to her.

And then he remembers something he doesn’t want to remember. He remembers being on a boat, eating. Letting his guard down for the first time in ages. He remembers thinking, as he ate what felt like his millionth cheese toast since he’d left home, maybe he could write her. Check up on her. Let her know he was okay. It’d been a while since he’d done that. And then he remembers the explosion.

The loud noise that shook the entire boat. He remembers everything going black, filling with water, and he remembers taking what he thought might be his last breath.

Alex had been told his entire life that when a person is about to die, their whole life flashes before their eyes. But in that instance, that wasn’t the case.

As he reached up, grasping at the black water and cursing the life vest that was doing nothing for him in this moment, he remembers thinking of her.

Alex’s eyes shoot open when he feels them getting moist with more than just the shower water. He wipes at his them quickly and lets out a soft grunt before shaking his wet hair out of his face.

The oil and dirt are mostly gone off of his body. The last of it seems to be making its way down to the drain, actually. And it gives him an idea.

He gives himself a quick scrub down with her soap, (lavender scented, because of course) just to get the excess off, before turning the shower off and climbing out. He grabs the towel and can’t seem to move quickly enough getting himself dry.

Her apartment feels cold now and his skin is pink because of how hot the water was. When he makes his way back into the kitchen, she’s at the stove. She’s humming softly to herself, every now and then glancing back at a cookbook. The book is being held open by an empty glass being used as a paperweight, and the sight makes him smile to himself. Her dress twirls and swishes with every movement, and he wants nothing more than to go toy with the ends of it while kissing her neck.

Instead, he clears his throat.

She jumps, whirling around quickly. “Jesus!” She shrieks before her smile returns. “Alex, you scared me.”

It’s then that they both realize that Alex is only in a towel worn low across his hips, and her eyes can’t help but wander. Her cheeks redden at the sight of his body, a bit firmer since the last time she’d seen it but- god- just as delicious. She licks her lips before tearing her eyes away to meet his once again. “Did you... uh...was there something you needed? That was a quick shower.”

The sight of her being so flustered has him a bit flustered as well, and he reaches down to pull the towel up a bit. “I’m...” There’s a long pause where neither dares to look away from the other’s faces (even though its paining her to not look back down at his stomach) and he lets out an exhale. “No.”

She lets out a nervous giggle. “Well... alright. Did you not grab your clothes? All you had to do was yell. I could’ve brought--”

“Will you take a bath with me?” Alex doesn’t know why the question makes him so nervous. He’d gotten out of the shower with such confidence, fully ready to ask her, and now that the question is out there he feels vulnerable and strange.

Her cheeks turn even darker red, but she doesn’t giggle this time. She just blinks, and he can see her chest rising and falling. Its so quiet, he can hear her breathing. He feels awkward now, and he wants to explain himself. He opens his mouth again, but she speaks before he even has a chance.

“Okay.”

Relief washes over him, but his gut reaction is to continue to explain. “I don’t want to like, do anything with ya. I think I just... fuck. It’s bloody stupid but I think I missed being close with people and I think... I missed... I don’t know. Y’just... soft. And nice. And s’like... Might be nice to have someone in there with me. To talk to. Been alone too much lately. I don’t know. Fuck. Sorry. It’s stupid.”

She laughs and closes the space between them. “Alex. I already said yes.”

“I know, but--”

“It’s okay. Really. I want to.”

His voice feels quiet and he feels ashamed for some reason. “You do?”

She reaches up to stroke at his cheek, which feels like its on fire. “I do.”

He smiles, allowing himself to relax into her touch. “Okay.” They stay like that for a few more seconds, just smiling and enjoying this feeling.

And then she nods. “Right. Let’s get this bath started, hm?”

-----

It takes everything in him not to stare as Emily reaches behind her to unzip her dress. She, however, seems to think nothing of it-- and if it weren’t for that little blush on her cheeks giving her away, he’d think she wasn’t even affected by this.

The dress pools at her feet and she steps out of it, kicking it to the side. Fuck, she’s just as lovely as he remembers her, only more so. There she stands, in just her undergarments. The girl he used to practically worship. The body that appeared in his lonely dreams when he was away, and the woman he’d imagined every time he’d tugged one out. (Which hadn’t happened often, and usually was a sad excuse for a wank. But still.)

She shakes her head, a smile creeping across her face as she shimmies out of her underwear. “Stop staring, Alex.”

He smirks, but he has missed this. “Sorry,” he says, with a quick nod of his head.

He turns away for a brief moment to lower the towel off of his hips. This is the most intimate he’s gotten with anyone in a long while, and it makes him nervous. He’s about to make a joke about being naked, or a sorry excuse for a joke, when he hears the sloshing of the water.

He turns to see her already sinking into the bath, eyes closed and lips tucked into her mouth. She hums the lower she sinks, and lets out the rest of her breath once she’s sitting fully. She opens her eyes and smiles at him. “Water’s perfect.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, stepping towards the tub.

She nods, allowing her head to fall back against the wall. “Mm.”

He goes to step in to the tub so that he’s facing her, but she lifts her head quickly once he’s got a foot in. “No, no,” she says quickly. “Face the other way.”

Alex hesitates, one foot still in the water and the other resting on the tile of her bathroom floor. “What?”

“Just trust me,” she says, a soft little grin on her lips. “Please.”

He does trust her. With everything in him, he trusts her. But, as he turns his body to face the other way, he smirks. “If you’re trying to get fresh with me--”

She snorts. “I’m not. Just sit down.”

Alex sinks into the water and can’t help the little moan that escapes from his lips. This is what he wanted. This is exactly what he wanted, complete with the girl sitting behind him.

He feels her hands on his shoulders and she gives them a little squeeze which, admittedly, feels insanely nice. He hums a bit as she kneads at his skin, letting his eyes close and his head fall forward. “God that feels good.”

She doesn’t say anything, she just continues to squeeze and rub at his skin. He relaxes into her touch, letting her massage away all the stress and tension he hadn’t realized he was holding there, and lets out a wince when she hits a particularly sore spot.

She gasps, stopping the movement of her fingers. “Sorry!”

“No, no. It’s fine. It feels really bloody good actually. Don’t stop.”

She removes her hands from his shoulders despite his pleas, and he lets out a little whine that makes her laugh. “Relax, I’m coming back.” He can feel her moving behind him, and he hears some type of bottle being opened. He’s about to turn around and see what she’s doing when he feels a warm washcloth on his back. He relaxes instantly again.

They’re quiet for the next few minutes while she runs the washcloth up and down the skin of his back. She continues to massage at him and the scent of some type of vanilla gel fills the air. She pushes and rubs at his skin, every now and then dipping the cloth into the water before bringing it back up. His eyes close once more and he allows himself to put his guard down. To feel this type of intimacy once again.

“I missed you.”

It startles him when her voice finally breaks through the silence, and he realizes he was drifting off. The movement of the cloth doesn’t stop, but he can tell she’s holding her breath.

He stares at the edge of the tub, letting her words sink in the way the scent is definitely sinking into his skin. When he swallows, it surprises him how dry his throat suddenly feels.

She missed him.

She speaks again, hardly even giving him a chance to talk. “You don’t have to say it back. It’s okay. But I really did.” She takes a deep breath, and he knows she’s thinking carefully about what she’s about to say. “I’m... I’m very proud of you, Alex.”

He doesn’t respond. What is there to say? She has nothing to be proud of. All he manages is a soft shake of his head, but she presses on.

“You’re incredibly brave. I can’t even imagine...” She trails off, the movement of her hands ceasing for just a moment. “What I’m saying is, you did something that not a lot of people could do. And you survived. You should be very, very proud of yourself. I know that everyone else in the country is.”

Alex doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels a tear roll down his cheek, hot and salty, and get stuck just above his lip. He licks at it, willing it to disappear just as quickly as it came, but another one rolls down his cheek. And then another one.

She continues to wash his back, but she knows he’s crying because there’s a new affection in her touch that wasn’t there before. He appreciates her not saying anything, but her tenderness tugs at his heart and he can’t stop the tears from flowing. He allows himself to let out a little sob, a choking sort of sound, and hangs his head in defeat.

He’s full on crying now, tears streaming down his skin and landing in the water, heart pounding, stomach aching. She shifts a bit, leaning closer towards him. She has ditched the washcloth and now scratches her fingertips against his bare skin.

He lets it all out. Finally. He tells her about the war. About the first dead body he saw, and how it affected him deeper than he wanted it to. About his friend Tommy who he knows he’s completely lost contact with but “I worry about the kid, you know?” He talks about how scared he’d been the first time he’d shot at someone. He tells her about what drowning feels like.

And she listens. She doesn’t say another word, or ask him any questions. She just continues to scratch at his back and listen, nodding her head occasionally. He doesn’t think she understands, or ever will understand. But it feels so good to be able to talk to someone, anyone, about all of this. No one else had ever asked because they’d all been going through it with him.

About forty-five minutes later is when he actually finishes, and he feels even more exhausted than he had before. The water is now lukewarm, and he’s lying against her, with his back to her front. She’s holding him, splashing water over his stomach every now and then. Neither has said a word in about five minutes, but neither feels the need to. One of her hands trails lightly through his hair.

He takes a long, deep breath, beginning to feel a bit embarrassed once again. “M’sorry for... that.”

She shakes her head, giving his head an affectionate little scratch. “Don’t be. My god, don’t be. Please.”

He sits up, looking around the bathroom and feeling the water slosh a bit around him. When he looks at her, she’s already smiling back at him. Her eyes look a bit puffy as well, though nowhere near as red as he’s sure his are. His eyes burn with every blink.

“Want to get out of here and get some clothes on?” She asks softly. “My fingers are raisins.”

He laughs quietly. “Yeah. Probably should.”

He moves to get out of the bath, which admittedly takes more energy than he’s ready to exude, but she stops him. “Alex?”

“Hm?”

“Would you... I mean... will you sleep in my bed tonight?”

He shouldn’t feel so relieved at her question but he is. He hadn’t quite liked the idea of sleeping alone tonight, especially after all that. So he smiles, reaching up to run his knuckle lightly along her red cheek.

“’Course.”

-----

Alex is running. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he knows that time is running out. He can hear a clock ticking, but he doesn’t know where its coming from. All he knows is that the ticking is getting louder and louder, and everything around him is getting darker and darker.

He cries out for help. For someone to point him in the direction he needs to go. Where is Tommy? Tommy had been by his side for all of this, and now suddenly he’s gone. Had he been captured? Killed? Had he made it out of there without telling Alex where to go?

He calls out again, turning to survey his surroundings. Everything is dim now, but he can just make out walls that weren’t there before. Ceramic walls.

There’s a light from above and when he looks up, he sees a group of men. His regiment brothers? Maybe. He waves his hands frantically and calls out to them.

They stop what they’re doing and look down at him briefly before looking back at each other. They don’t seem to care that he’s down there, seemingly at the bottom of this thing that’s similar to a well, but much bigger than that.

Alex grows frustrated, calling out for them again. He notices a tube being dipped down, and he thinks it may be a rope. He jumps to see if he can reach it, but its still a bit too high. He calls at the men to lower it a bit more, but he quickly realizes it isn’t a rope when he sees water coming through the tube.

He’s being drenched, and the water doesn’t stop flowing. He blinks up at the men, who still don’t seem to care that he’s down here. He shouts for them again. What do they think they’re doing? Can’t they see him?

It doesn’t take long for the bottom of the well to begin filling up, and Alex’s yells are frantic now and filled with colorful language. The bastards seem to be laughing at him now, and one disappears briefly. The water pools at Alex’s ankles, and he kicks at it angrily.

When the man reappears, he’s holding what seems to be a cover. The men work to spread the cover across the top of the well, and now his screams are panic-filled. They’re going to kill him. He’s going to drown in here.

The cover is placed entirely over the well now, and everything is pitch black. He can hear them laughing up above over the sound of the running water, and he’s terrified. He calls them every foul name in the book. He runs around and throws himself into the walls, looking for a door. But the space is filling up quick, and he knows he doesn’t have much time left.

He can hear them talking about him, saying his name over and over again, almost in a mocking tone. He curses them as loudly as he can and wills himself not to cry. Not yet. He’ll find a way out of here.

“Alex.”

They’re still making fun of him, but he’ll get out and he’ll kill them all.

“Alex!”

Bastards. He’ll kill them.

“Alex!”

Alex shoots upright then, breathing heavily and covered in so much sweat he feels like he just swam a mile. His eyes feel fuzzy and he blinks to adjust to the soft light of the room. His eyebrows furrow in confusion.

He isn’t trapped in a well at all. He’s in a bedroom. In a comfortable bed that, to his surprise, isn’t in the barracks. A tiny lamp glows softly in the corner of the room, and he recognizes this instantly.

He’s in Emily’s bedroom.

Emily sits beside him with a worried expression while her eyes scan his face. She doesn’t know if she should touch him or not, and they sit there in agonizing silence.

He must still look confused and a bit angry, because she raises a shaky hand to rest on his back. “It’s me. Just me.”

He flinches when she touches him, and she retracts her hand immediately. Her face remains soft. “Alex, you... you had a nightmare. That’s all. It was a just a nightmare. You’re here. You’re safe with me, okay? You’re okay.”

He’s not okay. He’s angry. He’s so fucking angry and he cannot believe that he had a nightmare so violent it woke her up. He struggles to catch his breath and his hand comes up to brush through his hair.

“You’re okay,” she repeats.

“Do I look bloody okay to you?!” He throws the covers off of himself with more aggression than he means to and rolls out of her bed. He’s in only his boxer shorts and the cold air of her apartment is rather shocking but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t say another word to her, he just trudges out of her bedroom and into the dark kitchen.

Emily continues to sit in her bed, confused and slightly scared. All she knows is is that he’d been mumbling in his sleep. She’d dismissed it as normal sleep-talking when it had first woken her up, but then it had gotten louder. And then it had started sounding like actual words.

“Bastard.”

“I’ll fucking kill you I swear to God.”

“Fucking cowards.”

She’d woken him up, because what else was she supposed to do? He was panicking. He was drenched in sweat. And she was scared.

But the way he’d flinched when he’d touched her made her sad. All she’d wanted was to be there for him. To make him feel safe. Especially after he’d opened up to her in the bathtub earlier.

She sighs, rubbing at her face and allowing herself to weigh her options. She could leave him be, let him calm down before asking him what had happened. Or, she could go comfort him. Assure him that everything is fine. That she isn’t mad at him for waking her, and she cares deeply about whatever it is that’s going on in his head.

She rubs at her eyes and glances at the clock. 4:37am. The sun will begin to rise in about an hour, and she doesn’t feel right going back to sleep without him in here with her. So she rolls out of bed and makes her way across the cold hardwood floor.

When she sees him, his back is to her. He’s got a quilt from her sofa wrapped loosely around his bare back, and he’s turning on her stove. Making tea, she thinks. Even though she can’t see his face, she can tell by his demeanor he’s clearly still upset. So she treads lightly, speaking with the softest tone she can manage. “What’s goin’ on?”

He turns around so quickly she’s afraid he might knock the teapot off the stove. “I shouldn’t be here, Emily.” His voice is raised, but she stands her ground.

“Alex, you aren’t a bother--”

“No, Em, I shouldn’t be alive. I should be fuckin’ dead. Least then I’d be a hero.”

“Alex--”

“Better men than me have died and what’ve I got to show for it? Bloody fuckin’ nightmares. And a family I can’t face because of how disappointed they’ll be.”

“They’re not going to be disappointed.”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know my family. My father.”

“Because you never let me get close to you! You never introduced me!” She doesn’t mean to fight, but now she’s heated and she needs a way to get it through his thick skull that she does care for him. Really and truly.

He shakes his head, taking a step towards her. “Because I knew. I bloody knew the minute we got serious I’d have to leave. And I’d die. And then I’d be a hero but I didn’t want you to suffer and have the weight of my family on your shoulders on top of all that.”

“But I DID suffer. You sent me one letter Alex. The whole time you were gone. No explanation, nothing. it was so vague. It scared me. I can’t... I didn’t want to lose you. And you ARE a bloody hero, Alex.” She lets out a breath and shakes her head now, gesturing vaguely with her hands. “Just... let me help you. I don’t understand you. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.” He turns to the stove again but she isn’t finished just yet. She closes the space between them and touches his arm, turning him around quickly.

“Look at me!” She nearly spits. When their eyes meet, she softens a bit. He’s scared, and she knows that. So she takes a deep breath and reaches up to stroke at his cheek softly. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

He heaves a sigh, his voice now barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t have to be. This shouldn’t be your burden to bear.”

Her hand slides down his face, his neck, his bare chest, until its resting softly just above his heart. Goosebumps prickle his skin. She gives him a smile so soft it makes him want to sob. “I’m here because I want to be.”

He wants to cry again. He wants to melt under her touch and let her pull him back to bed. He wants to lay his head on her chest and feel her hold him and play with his hair, and he wants to fall asleep to the sound of her heart and her soft breathing. He wants this so fucking badly, but he can’t let himself. So instead he takes a step away. “Would you stop doing that?!”

She almost laughs, a mocking sort of sound that Alex doesn’t quite like. “Doing what?!”

“Being so bloody sweet about this! Fucking stop! I don’t deserve it.”

“You’re feeling sorry for yourself!” Her voice is louder than his now, and it takes him by surprise. “I get it, Alex. You’ve been through a lot. Christ, I know I’ll never understand what it is you’re feeling or the things you’ve seen but if you’d just let me--”

“You’re not mine, Emily.” It comes out blunt and her mouth freezes mid sentence when he says it. He’s angry now, but not with her. Never with her.

He sets his jaw and lets out a long breath, slow, so as to calm himself down, and repeats himself. Softer this time. “You aren’t mine.”

She swallows, and he can see tears pooling in her pretty eyes. “But I...” she trails off, eyes cast downwards. “I want to be.”

“Why?” He takes a step towards her, softening his tone. “S’this really what you want every day, Em? Hm? Want to deal with this every bloody night?”

She looks up at him. Her face is unchanged but a single tear slips down her cheek. She gives him the softest nod. “Yes.”

It isn’t the answer he’s expecting, but he isn’t surprised. She’s always been so good to him. His eyes dart across her face, looking for some type of sign that that’s not what she really means. But she looks him dead in the eyes, completely unwavering. A question that neither of them can put into words tugs at their lips.

So he swallows, moving slowly, closing the space between the two of them until she’s just up against him. He drops the quilt from around him and puts his hands on her hips, searching her face for an answer. He feels shaky, nervous, and he licks his lips as if asking for permission. He hasn’t done this in ages really, and he’s worried he won’t do it correctly. But now he can’t stop staring at her lips, pretty and wet and parted, and he wants nothing more than to taste them.

She answers his thoughts, barely rising up on her toes to fasten their lips together. It’s quick, and soft, and their noses bump a little, but when she pulls away, she doesn’t sink back down onto her feet. She stays, just out of reach of his own lips. She lets out a soft little laugh, as if she can’t believe they’re doing this either. “Alex--”

He kisses her again, this time longer. One hand finds its way into her hair while the other pulls her closer by the small of her back. It’s been so long. So fucking long, for both of them. And too many nights did he dream about these lips, her smell, her body, this moment.

She kisses him back, hungrily, while her hands find their way to his back. She’s breathing heavily through her nose, and he’s missed this. Missed the way she felt as she was surrendering to him. To his kiss. His touch.

His tongue grazes her bottom lip and she pulls away softly. She pushes her forehead to his and keeps her eyes closed, speaking through a shaky whisper. “We don’t have to do this.”

He shakes his head, willing her to stop talking and just kiss him, please. He knows they don’t have to. But they want to, clearly, and by the way she’s kissing him he can tell that she’s needed this just as badly as he has. He reaches down to cup her behind in his hands and gives it a little tap. “Up,” he says, and she smiles gently.

She gives a soft jump and he lifts her while she works her legs around his hips. Her elbows rest on his shoulders while she kisses him, and now they’re both smiling. It feels good. Really bloody good to have a girl’s legs around him like this. To have a girl sucking at his neck like this. Scratching his head like this. She giggles into his mouth.

He takes a wobbly step forward, then another one, and then he’s making his way slowly and clumsily out of the kitchen and back down the hallway without so much as removing his lips from hers. She pulls away when she realizes they’re moving though. “Wait wait,” she says, breathlessly. “What about your tea?”

“Fuck the tea.” Alex sinks his teeth into her neck and the tea is forgotten when she lets out a little whimper. Music to his ears, really. He hasn’t heard her moan like that in ages. Actually, he hasn’t heard anyone moan in far longer than he’d like to admit. (Unless, of course, you counted accidentally hearing one of his comrades wanking in the bathroom. He didn’t.)

It’s an awkward stumble into the bedroom and he drops her, rather ungracefully, onto the bed. They both giggle as he crawls onto the bed beside her. Her nightgown creeps dangerously high on her thighs and he reaches with shaky hands to push it a bit higher. She grins as they fasten their lips together once more, shifting a bit to get higher on the bed and more comfortable.

The warm, soft skin of Emily’s thighs feels almost foreign to Alex as he snakes his hand up her leg. The cotton of her undergarments feels damp already, and even in the dim lighting of the room he can see her cheeks turning a dark crimson color. He uses his other hand to brush her hair off of her face. This type of intimacy feels somewhat familiar to him, like picking up an old skill, and he cannot believe he’s gone this long without her. “S’just me.”

She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and reaches up to touch lightly at his cheek. He lets out a breathy chuckle while his eyes trail down to her lips. He nudges at her nose with his own while his fingers trace soft circles on her thigh. “May be a bit rusty with all this,” he admits, eyes darting back up to meet hers.

She smiles, shaking her head. “It’s just me,” she repeats. She reaches up to comb her fingers through his hair, nails dragging along his scalp, and he can’t help but close his eyes and let out a soft hum of appreciation. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” she says quietly.

He kisses her again, fingertips ceasing their movement for just a moment while they move to get more comfortable. They’re moving slowly as they flip. He relaxes into the mattress and lays on his back, guiding her by her hips to straddle him. They never once break the kiss until she’s sitting comfortably, and she beams down at him. She presses a quick kiss into his neck before smirking. “You know, I could always help refresh your memory.” Another kiss to his nose. “If you’re feeling rusty.”

He grins, fingertips now sliding up and down the skin of her arms. She thinks he doesn’t notice the goosebumps rising on her skin, but he does and he thinks he loves her for them. “Think I might like that,” he says, voice thick. “A lot.”

She lets out an almost nervous little giggle and squirms her way down his body so that she can maneuver him out of his boxers, and he moves accordingly. Although the minute he feels her fingers hook into his boxers and tug, he becomes increasingly self conscious. Sure, he’d groomed down there since he’d left. And yeah, she’d seen him earlier in the bath. But no one had seen him in this context in God only know’s how long, and now here she is looking at him like he’s a feast.

She licks her lips, looking at his half-hard prick and shooting him the most sinful look. She discards his boxers completely, throwing them over her shoulder, and takes him gently in her hands. His breath hitches immediately. It feels so good to have someone else’s hands on him. He lets out the rest of his air in a shaky breath and a near-whisper of “Fuck, Emy.”

She grins at his old nickname for her, continuing to tug at him. “So big,” she muses, running her thumb over the slit in a way that makes his toes curl. “Bigger than I remember.”

His eyes are dark and he licks at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Mm.” She nods, still admiring it and gently tugging.

He swallows. “Can you... can you put it in your mouth? Please?”

She smiles up at him. “Impatient, aren’t you?” She swipes her thumb over the tip again mindlessly. “It’s alright though. I’d be impatient, too, probably. If it had been this long for me.”

Although what she’s doing feels good, Alex gets a feeling in his stomach that he doesn’t quite like. “Have there been others?”

Her movements stop and she looks up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He lets out a frustrated little sigh because god, does he want her hands to keep moving, and he runs his hand through his hair. “I mean, have you... have there been... others? Since me. Since I left.”

Realization flashes across her face and her eyes go wide. “Oh, no! No no no. Definitely not.”

“But you said-”

“I was just saying that because men are different than... well...” Her cheeks go red as she fumbles through her explanation, and he cant help but quirk his lips up in a smile. She’s so awkward when it comes to the topic of sex. She always has been. And he loves it. “I just thought... I mean, I figured... I was always told that.... that men had a harder time going a while without... I mean, I haven’t...” She trails off and lets the rest of her air out in a flustered sigh.

He chuckles, reaching up to brush at her hair once more. “Hey. S’okay. I know what you meant.”

She smiles softly, tilting her head to kiss his wrist before looking down at his cock still in her hands. “Anyway.” She leans down to lick at the top which takes him by surprise, and his stomach jolts.

“Jesus, Em.”

She giggles, wrapping her lips around him and swirling her tongue around the tip. A feeling, similar to that of an electric shock, shoots from his stomach to his toes. He hisses and she sinks down lower. The part she can’t get in her mouth, she tugs at, and he can’t take his eyes off of the sight before him. “Ohhhh my god. So good at that.” His hand finds its way into her hair. “Always have been, haven’t you, pet?”

She hums around his cock, coming up a bit just to say, “I missed it.” And then she’s right back at it, twisting, tugging, licking, and just about driving him to insanity.

His mouth hangs open like a fish and he lets a pitiful little grunt escape while his eyebrows furrow. “Fuck. Jesus-- oh FUCK.’ He’s fighting the urge in the pit of his belly and telling himself not to cum--not yet. But he’s having such a hard time because god is she good at that, and it’s been too damn long.

His hand tangles into her hair, tugging before pushing her head further down. She gags just a bit and her hand grips at his thigh. Her fingernails dig into his skin and it stings but he loves it. He absolutely adores the feeling of her pretty mouth wrapped around him, her tongue licking along the underside, and the pain of her nails in his skin. He hopes for fingernail shaped bruises there in the morning.

His free hand grips at the bed, with fingers curling and uncurling and struggling to get ahold of the bunched up sheets. He’s losing his mind, he thinks. His thoughts are getting hazy and his breathing is getting quicker and he doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to last. Especially with the way her eyes keep darting up to look at him. “Emily.. fuck, I’m--”

He cuts himself off with a moan when her other hand reaches up to squeeze at his balls. The noise he makes is rather embarrassing but she doesn’t seem to notice or care, except for the fact that she smiles softly around him. He’s about to make a remark when her knuckles graze at his balls once more.

He can’t help it. His back arches when he feels that. His head shoots back against the wall much harder than he intends, and its almost painful. He doesn’t even have time to register the feeling however, because a loud bang startles him and brings him out of the moment.

They hear it at the same time, and Emily breaks off of him. He doesn’t even give her the chance to talk before he’s grabbed her and shifted his body so its shielding her from whatever the source of that noise was. He looks around frantically. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Alex it’s okay!” She’s a bit breathless, due to the shock of it all and the fact that she was practically choking on him seconds before. “That picture fell off the wall when your head hit it. It’s fine.”

Her words sink in slowly. Picture? What picture? He scans the room to notice a picture frame, that now lays shattered in the corner of the room. Because of him.

She giggles, not sensing his unhappiness. “Guess I need to be a bit more careful. Your balls are a sensitive spot, aren’t they?”

He lets go of her quickly and stands up, scanning the room for his boxers. That’s when she gets the hint, and suddenly she stops laughing. “Hey. Wait... its okay! What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer her, he only walks over to his crumpled up boxer shorts and picks them up. She crawls down the bed so that she’s closer to him. “Did I say something?”

Her eyes are huge and her voice is timid and for a split second he feels bad. This isn’t her fault. “I can’t fucking live this way, Emily.”

Just like that, he’s right back to his terrified, jumpy self. She shakes her head. “No, no! Its okay. It... it scared me, too. It was just the picture frame though. We’re fine. It was old anyway.”

“If this is how m’gonna react every time something like this happens, then I’m not sure I belong here.”

She looks hurt by his words, her eyes wide. “What do you mean? Of course you belong--”

“What if I get scared of something and I react and I hurt you? Hm? Then what?”

He can see her eyes starting to fill with tears. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“What if I do?”

“You won’t! Please get back in bed. We don’t have to finish this tonight but--”

“It’s fucking embarrassing, Emily. Don’t you understand that? Guy’s gettin’ his rocks off and he gets startled by the tiniest thing like that.”

A tear slips out and rolls down her cheek. “It was startling.”

He shakes his head in disgust. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling really. Or why he’s so upset like this. And he especially feels bad for making her cry. He scoffs. “Just... go back to sleep. M’sorry. For.... this.”

He turns to leave the room but he hears her voice and it stops him. “Wait!”

He doesn’t turn around, but he does stop walking. She sniffles, and he knows she’s crying hard now. “I don’t know why you won’t let me help you. Or... or comfort you. Or anything. You don’t have to spend the rest of the night in here with me. But...” She takes a shaky breath. “Will you at least still be here when I wake up?”

It breaks his heart, because he knows what she’s referring to. He knows the last time he left, it was without a warning. Its all too familiar, and he realizes that maybe she’d needed to see him just as badly as he’d needed to see her.

He shakes his head and finishes walking towards the door. Before he exits, all he can manage is a soft, “I don’t know.”

And he really doesn’t know.

#AU #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #One Direction AU #Dunkirk fiction

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