Imperfectly Perfect

by WhoreForFluff

Summary:

Neither Ben nor Callum ever thought the war would bring anything but destruction, but with the help of each other and friends can they see that life doesn't have to be perfect to be worth living?

 

I'm horrific at summaries but yeah, basically a ww2 fic with love and some semblance of philosophy to tie it all together lmao

Set in early-mid 1944!

Notes:

This is my gift to eastendies for the Ballum Lockdown Gift Exchange! I've followed your blog for a while so I was really happy to get you, sorry I was a bit of an inactive anon but I hope you like this first chapter! If you want anything changed or if you have any ideas pls feel free to dm me :)

I've been rereading this chapter for weeks so it's extremely possible I'e made a mistake so comment if you see anything!

I'm not HOH so if anything is unrealistic, completely wrong, or offensive please please please tell me and I'll change it.

Chapter 1: Gay Panic™

It’s strange how quickly you get used to it.

 

All the gunfire, mines exploding, aeroplanes zooming past above you. It all just eventually becomes background noise, a weird, brand new sense of normal that you have no choice but to adapt to while you’re at war.

 

However, there was always one sound Callum swore he would never get used to.

 

The screaming.

 

He hated the screaming, he hated what it meant, and he hated, absolutely despised the fact that he probably wouldn’t be able to help, not in any meaningful way at least.

 

As a medical officer, it was Callum’s job to save these men, to put them back together, even though most of the time all he could do was delay the inevitable.

 

He could even hear them now when he was meant to be listening to his best friend, Dr Frankie Lewis. They were just outside the regimental aid post, sitting down in the dirt. It had been set up relatively close to the battlefield, maybe 250-300 yards away from the front line. Unlike at Callum’s last post where it had been in a dug out, they’d been lucky enough to find a ruined building to set up in. Callum preferred working in buildings, dug outs always feeling far too claustrophobic for the frenzy that was emergency war medicine.

 

 Frankie had found him while he was eating in between shifts and joined him without invitation. They were both medical officers at the aid post, but they had known each other since their last base, when they had both been assigned to a dressing station. All they had done in the first couple of hours of being stationed was nod politely at each other, not really having a reason to speak while they weren’t actively treating patients, until Frankie realised Callum knew sign. They had been introducing themselves properly when Callum signed his words, looking sheepish when he realised and explained with a ”sorry, force of habit”. When Frankie gasped and started frantically signing back at him he had been overcome with joy and replied in turn.

 

They’d had a strong friendship ever since.

 

She hadn’t actually needed any invitation to sit down, not since a particular late night of talking about the emotional toll of being a MO. Callum had believed it was just him, that he’d been the only one to be caving in under the bloody, bullet-ridden weight that came with the job. It had turned out that he’d been completely wrong, as punctuated by Frankie furiously signing at him how stupid he was when he told her he was just as weak as his father had always said. She went on to tell him how isolating it was, being a deaf woman in the medical field, how she felt she had no one to confide in, how she definitely understood the weight he had described. Ever since, they had a deal to not let each other dwell too often, that whenever they saw the other looking particularly gloomy they would always make time to cheer the other up.

 

It was a nice friendship.

 

“Callum, oi!” Frankie called, waving a hand obnoxiously in front of Callum’s face. 

 

Usually.

 

He pushed her hand away with a long-suffering sigh and asked “what?”

 

“God, anyone would think that you’re the deaf one here” she said, hitting his shoulder slightly with a cheeky grin “I was trying to ask you what you think about the new boys”

 

“Dunno, haven’t met any of them yet” Callum replied, eyes drifting away as he crossed his arms.

 

Yesterday a brand new batch of soldiers had arrived at the base, rotating out one of the last platoon stationed there. They were nothing special, as far as Callum could tell, just a group of men fighting for their country for whatever reason, no captain americas to be seen.

 

Well, maybe one of them was slightly, not not special.

 

Callum had seen him jumping out of the truck with the rest of the new soldiers on his way to the medical tent. The man had been receiving instructions from his lieutenant, but for whatever reason Callum couldn’t tear his eyes away, oddly enamoured with the soldier. He looked around Callum’s age, had floppy brown hair, obviously in need of a cut, a strong build, and the stormiest grey eyes Callum had ever seen on a person. It was only when the man’s group walked off that he snapped out of it and kept walking.

 

“Why are you acting so suspicious?” Frankie asked, amused intrigue lacing her words, effectively jolting Callum out of the memory of the guy.

 

“I-I’m not!” Callum defended, gaze snapping back forward.

 

Frankie just gave him a look that screamed ‘are you shitting me’ “I can tell when you’re lying, Callum”

 

Callum sighed, sat forward, and rubbed his face, hands lingering as he rested his chin on his fists “ maybe one of them is, maybe, just slightly ” he quickly glanced around to make sure they weren’t being listened in on, before thinking better of speaking and quickly signing “one of them is kind of handsome”

 

Frankie gasped happily and leaned forward too, mirroring Callum, before frantically signing back “you’ve got a crush!”

 

Callum shifted uncomfortably, eyes skittishly darting back around the yard. Rationally, he knew no one would be able to understand what they were talking about, if someone else knew sign Frankie would know, but 28 years of having to keep his being gay a secret had made Callum just a little paranoid.

 

“Maybe? I don’t know!” Callum signed, movements small and quick, his face conorting uncomfortably.

 

Now it was Frankie’s eyes scanning the yard, searching each soldier’s face “which one?”

 

“He’s not here, I think he’s digging in the trench”

 

Frankie giggled and asked “You know his schedule?” looking happier than she did when she found out Callum knew sign.

 

“I might’ve been looking at the rota and his name just happened to catch my eye” Callum signed, slow and heavy with shame. In Callum’s defence he had been looking for his own shifts, and if he’d already known them well, Frankie didn’t need to know.

 

“You know his name?”

 

“Shut up!”

 

Frankie giggled and nudged his knee with hers “wow, someone’s infatuated”

 

“I am not!” Callum signed, moving quick and furiously, “I just think he’s attractive, and besides, is not like anything can happen.”

 

Frankie’s smile dimmed slightly, and she shifted closer to him “You don’t know that, maybe he’s, you know, like us”

 

Callum scoffed quietly and leaned back, bringing one knee up to his chest. They had found out the other was gay when Frankie had accidently injected some Polari into a sentence, and after gaping for a moment Callum responded with some himself. It had been like feeling a proper connection for the first time, finally finding someone who was the same. It had been amazing , a perfect, once in a lifetime moment.

 

A once in a lifetime moment.

 

“You know that there’s no way Frankie”

 

Frankie sighed, and looked at him with the same determination in her eyes she had before pulling off a medical miracle “there was meant to be no way a woman could become a doctor, but I did it, so maybe there’s a way you could have something with this guy”

 

At Callum’s eye roll of disbelief she added “you deserve it”

 

Thrown off guard by the sentiment Callum sat stunned for a moment, trying to process Frankie’s words “what’s got you being so hopeful? I thought you were more of a realist”

 

Frankie laughed slightly, looking down, “I, just might, also have a bit of a crush, and if you have a chance then, you know” she took a deep breath “maybe I do too”

 

Callum looked at her incredulously, gasping for air “You what? Who?!”

 

Frankie just smiled a shit-eating grin and got up, tapping her nose “It’s my shift in a couple of minutes, see ya!” she called, walking away before Callum could sign anything in reply.

 

Callum looked down at his watch, and realised that he was meant to start working his own shift soon. Groaning, he got up, stretching his tired muscles, and walked off into the aid station.

 

XxXxXxX 

 

“What are you staring at?” Frankie asked, causing Callum to hit his head off the shelf above the one he was restocking.

 

Well, meant to be restocking.

 

Rubbing at his injury Callum stood up straight and gave Frankie a pointed glare of ‘what was that for?’

 

Frankie just looked at him unimpressed and said, “don’t give me that look, knowing you, you would've done that whether I had said anything or not” and finished by signing “idiot”

 

Callum just laughed slightly and signed “what did you say?”

 

“I said!” Frankie began, much louder than she knew was needed “what were you staring at?!”

 

“Nothing” Callum answered, far too quickly to be believable.

 

Frankie’s face lit up with glee and she whipped her eyes around the station “is he here?” she exclaimed, almost jumping with joy.

 

Callum grabbed her arm to pull her into a nearby empty corner “not so loud!” he signed “what if he hears you?”

 

“So he is here!” Frankie’s face was engulfed by her smile, and it was so infectious that Callum could feel the corners of his mouth tugging themselves up despite himself.

 

He let out a long sigh and signed a small “yes.”

 

“Sorry, do that again Callum, couldn’t see that” Frankie sassed, looking like that cat who got the cream.

 

“He is here!” Callum signed, overexaggerating his movements out of pettiness.

 

“Well where is he then?”

 

Callum hesitated slightly, before realising that he would never hear the end of it if he didn’t tell her.

 

“He’s over there talking to Nurse Dean” Callum signed, refusing to look over himself in case the guy saw. Frankie on the other hand whipped her head over so quick Callum had half a mind to check her for fractured vertebrae.

 

She stood quietly for a minute before signing “he’s looking at you”

 

Callum’s world immediately tilted on its axis.

 

“He’s what?!” Callum signed, now more resolute than ever to not look, which was unhelped by his overwhelming need to do the opposite.

 

Why was the man looking at him? Callum was sure they had never met before, so what if he knew Calum liked him? What if he knew Callum was gay? What if he was just deciding when to tell the higher ups? All these questions and more shot through Callum’s brain like a bullet, leaving him reeling.

 

“Yeah, maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I believe he’s checking you out” Frankie signed, after turning her head back to Callum so that they could communicate properly.

 

A dismissive scoff punched its way through Callum in between his panicked breaths.

 

“I’m serious! If I know what checking someone out looks like, and I do, that’s what he was doing” Frankie implored, with even the look in her eyes screaming ‘he likes you dumbass!’

 

Callum attempted to look even slightly put together, and panickedly signed “is he still looking?”

 

Frankie looked back over and shook her head.

 

Callum took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and glanced over to the soldier. He was still talking to Nurse Dean, Whitney, as Callum had come to know her, and God was he just as stunning as the first time Callum had seen him. He had a smudge of dirt just under his left cheekbone, extenuating it, and his hair was sweaty and pushed back, steel eyes in full view.

 

Callum felt his soul cry a little.

 

He looked back at Frankie, his face pain-ridden “Frankie, help me, he’s even more attractive than when I first saw him”

 

Frankie just laughed at his pain, and tapped his chin lightly “get a grip, Callum, he’s just a man”

 

“Yeah, but a ridiculously handsome man!”

 

A laugh came from the otherside of the room.

 

And Callum felt his muscles seize up.

 

“ Please don’t tell me” Callum breathed out, and Frankie just giggled again.

 

“Frankie” Callum began, both elated to hear what the man sounds like and praying that it wasn’t him, “please don't tell me it was who I think was that just laughed”

 

“Well to do that I’d have to lie, Callum, sorry” Frankie replied, looking like she wasn’t going to let Callum live this down for a long time.

 

Knowing her, Callum thought, she wouldn’t.

 

Hey, remember that time the guy you fancied laughed and you nearly died?

 

Frankie, please.

 

Callum groaned “why is he laughing? Did I just do something stupid?” Callum asked, hands moving so quickly he wondered if Frankie could even understand him.

 

“Callum, darling, calm down ” Frankie instructed, her face in an expression of pure fond amusement. “He probably just laughed at something Whitney said”

 

Callum let out a sigh and signed “yeah, you’re probably right” before shoving his head into his hands in worry. After a few seconds however he remembered that the guy might be looking at him again, and quickly shot his head back up to look back at Frankie. However, when he looked at her, she had her eyes firmly trained at a spot just over Callum’s shoulder, a look of awe on her face.

 

Callum tapped her arm to get her attention. She kept staring for a moment before her gaze startled back to Callum, a blush rising to her cheeks.

 

“What are you looking at?” Callum asked, a grin creeping onto his face. He knew that expression, it was the one he’d had on just before Frankie had interrupted him.

 

“Nothing” Frankie signed, before adding “don’t you dare turn around”

 

Naturally, Callum spun around. Ignoring Frankie’s squawk of protest he observed a nurse organising a shelf like the one Callum had been stocking. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun at the bottom of her head on account of her hat and she wore the standard grey nursing dress. Callum laughed breathily, realising this was the woman Frankie had alluded to.

 

He turned back around to confirm his suspicions “so, I’m guessing you’re not looking at the poster on the wall”

 

Frankie glared at him, betrayed, before deflating, closing her eyes briefly, and nodding. Callum smiled gleefully and signed “she’s pretty”

 

“Uh and how would you know?” Frankie signed snarkily, her cheeky grin starting to spread back across her face.

 

Callum looked at her incredulously “I’m gay Frankie, not blind ”

 

Frankie rolled her eyes “I suppose you’ve got a point, I can also see that your man ain’t half bad looking”

 

Callum laughed and signed “I know, right?”

 

They smiled at each other contentally, not for the first time realising how lucky they were to have found each other.

 

Their moment ended abruptly, however, as from behind Callum, in a booming voice, came “Halfway! That you?”

 

Surprised, Callum spun around, before smiling so wide he thought his face would split open “Mick! Oh it’s good to see you mate.”

 

Behind Callum was a man slightly shorter and older than himself, dressed in a soldier’s uniform with a huge grin spread across his face. Before Callum could say anything else he was pulled in roughly for a massive bear hug. The two men clapped each other on the back a couple of times before pulling back.

 

“Uh, who’s this?” Frankie asked, standing perplexed behind the two.

 

“Mick Carter, darling,” Mick said, reaching out a hand to Frankie “I know Callum from Walford”

 

Frankie smiled politely and took Mick’s hand, eyes darting back to Callum’s to signal him to explain further.

 

“Mick owned the bar I used to work at during uni” Callum signed quickly.

 

Frankie’s eyes lit up with understanding, silently mouthing an ‘oh’ before signing “Queen Victoria Mick? The one that’s basically your dad?”

 

“That’s the one” Callum confirmed, smiling happily. He never spoke about his biological father, since all of the stories he had about him were upsetting, to say the least, but he always worked Mick into conversation whenever he could. If he and Frankie were drinking he would talk about how Mick would have served them if they had been at the Vic, if they were measuring out medicine he would mention how Mick always measured out the exact right amount of drink, everytime without fail, when they were walking from their tents to the aid post he would reminisce on the walks he, Mick, and Linda would take through Walford on nights out.

 

Honestly, Callum was surprised Frankie didn’t immediately recognise him by his name.

 

Mick tapped Callum’s arm jovially, and asked “what you saying about me over there Callum, I swear I saw my name”

 

Callum laughed and nudged Mick’s shoulder with his own “nothing but good, don’t you worry”

 

Mick grinned, then turned to Frankie conspiratorially and said “all lies my girl,” causing the three of them to laugh.

 

It made Callum happy to see the two hit it off. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if they hated each other.

 

“So Mick” Frankie began, hands fiddling with her stethoscope “did you come with the new guys yesterday?”

 

“Sure did, sure did, lovely bunch of lads” Mick confirmed, shoving his hands into his pockets, keeping his posture open and welcoming “don’t half make fun of me for being the oldest though”

 

“Oh yeah?” Callum laughed “who’s the worst”

 

Mick smiled and ducked his head slightly, before answering “this snarky young guy, Ben Mitchell, about your age I think”

 

Callum froze and laughed nervously “i-is that so?”

 

He locked eyes with Frankie, who was looking at him with confusion at his sudden change in mood, and he signed “the guy!”

 

Understanding blossomed across Frankie’s face, but didn’t sign anything as to not alert Mick.

 

Unaware of Callum’s panic, Mick continued “I hated him when I first met him mind you, but once you get to know him he’s a lovely boy, saved my life in the last battle we was in”

 

“How so?” Frankie asked.

 

“Nearly ran over a landmine but Ben had sharp eyes and pulled me back” Mick explained, smile more sombre than before “wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for him”

 

“Wow Mick, that’s a little surreal” Callum said, wondering how a man he hadn’t even met could make such a difference in his life. Callum wasn’t stupid, he knew when Mick got drafted there was a chance he wouldn’t see his friend ever again, but it was never something he had accepted. Knowing how close he came to being forced to accept it disconcerted Callum greatly.

 

“Yeah I know” Mick agreed, voice low, before darting his eyes away exclaiming “well, speak of the Devil!”

 

To Callum’s absolute horror, the man - Ben - had walked up to their little group, clasping Mick’s shoulder in greeting.

 

“Alright Mick? Not chatting any shit about me are you?” Ben laughed before looking up at Callum.

 

Callum felt himself melt.

 

After a moment of nerve wracking eye contact, Ben said “alright mate?” to Callum.

 

“I-uh, y-yeah, yourself?” Callum replied, mentally kicking himself.

 

Coming to his rescue, Frankie reached a hand towards Ben “hi, I’m Dr Frankie Lewis, that’s mine and Mick’s best mate Dr Callum Highway”

 

Ben averted his gaze towards Frankie, allowing Callum to start breathing again, and shook her hand “ooooh, a couple of brainbox doctors are you?”

 

“We’re not a couple” Callum blurted out, causing him to wince at his own social ineptitude.

 

Frankie looked at him as if to say ‘for the love of God, please shut the fuck up,’ and Ben looked at him as if to say ‘wow what a fucking idiot, I need to make sure to never speak with him ever again.’

 

Or so Callum thought.

 

“Alright alright” Ben said, holding his hands up in apology, an easy, beautiful smile on his face that Callum would love to kiss silly and-

 

Callum mentally dunked himself in a bucket of cold water.

 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to imply that.” Ben said, before turning to Mick “I came over to say we’re all needed in the trenches like, now”

 

Mick groaned and rubbed his eyes “honestly, we’ve been digging all day and now they want us to do more? Running the Vic was less tiring than this”

 

Callum sympathetically patted him on the back and said “c’mon Mick, I know you’re getting up there but you’re not so old that you can’t handle a little digging, surely”

 

Mick groaned louder and hit Callum in the side in retaliation. Callum went to hit Mick back when Ben started laughing, and Callum swore it was the most amazing sound he’d ever heard in his life.

 

Callum faltered for a second, before a subtle kick in the shin from Frankie reminded him where he was.

 

“I’ll see you down there Mick” Ben chuckled, before sticking his hand out at Callum, who thankfully grabbed it before things became awkward again “nice meeting you, Doc, hope we see more of each other”

 

“Uh, you too mate” Callum replied, and shook Ben’s hand a little more vigorously than was strictly necessary.

 

“You as well Lewis!” Ben said, looking directly at Frankie as he did so, before walking out of the tent.

 

“Well, I’d better head as well” Mick said, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck in preparation for the work that was before him “see you two!”

 

“Bye Mick” Callum called after Mick as he walked off, before collapsing onto a nearby chair.

 

“Was that as painful as I thought it was?” he asked Frankie, feeling more sorry for himself than he had ever felt in his life.

 

Frankie crouched down so that they were eye level, and smiled at him the way she did whenever she delivered bad news to a patient. Patting his knee sympathetically she stuck out her pinkies, bringing them together momentarily, and pulled them apart, signing just one word.

 

“Worse.”

Chapter 2: Injuries and Elm Trees

Notes:

So I'm not deaf but there's a scene briefly exploring the struggles of being deaf in an ableist society. I tried my best but obviously there's no substitute for lived experience so please please tell me if I need to change it or just completely cut it out

Anyways, I hope you enjoy! I might make some edits tomorrow since I'm like half awake rn bhfhjsd

“But you don’t know that!” Frankie insisted, standing firm at the door of Callum’s tent.

 

“Yes I do Frankie!” Callum retorted, standing equally firm next to his bedroll. They were meant to be walking to the aid post together, needing to finish preparing for the battle coming in the next few days.

 

Frankie, however, had other plans.

 

“You didn’t see him though! I don’t think I’ve ever seen such longing in a person's eyes before” She continued, hands flinging about passionately. Ever since they had met Ben the day before she had been adamant that there was something between him and Callum, that, as if their life were a novel, they were destined to be together.

 

It would be annoying if the stupid optimist inside Callum wasn’t eating it all up.

 

“Funny, because I saw the same longing in your eyes yesterday” he sassed, his grin a mirror of Frankie’s own patented smirk. After all, he had learned from the best.

 

Frankie’s jaw dropped, affronted, and she signed “that is a low blow Callum Highway, and get my grin off your face!” She pushed her hair back behind her ears angrily and checked her watch, realising their never-ending argument was going to make them late.

 

Annoyance radiating off her in waves she signed “this is not over” and ripped open Callum’s door flap, and stormed out.

 

Callum groaned before walking through the flap and out, running to catch up to where she had sped walked away. He grabbed her hand to get her to slow down, relieved when she didn’t throw him off.

 

“It’s not like I don’t appreciate the message Frankie, I do, I just don’t want to get my hopes up over nothing” Callum explained, still holding her hand as they walked.

 

“I know Callum, but I want you to enjoy getting your hopes up” Frankie countered “I really think there’s something between you guys”

 

Callum breathed in deeply and looked away. It didn’t really bother him how hard Frankie was fighting for this, but he hated the fact that he was actually believing he could have something with Ben, that he was becoming optimistic about it.

 

In Callum’s experience, optimism had never led to anything good.

 

To him, it was just an indicator to the universe of how much you wanted something, of how happy it would make you, just so that it knew exactly what would hurt the most to have ripped away. Such as when he had hoped, wished, and even prayed to a God that he didn’t even believe in to spare Mick from the draft, and he ended up being the first person Callum knew to get his letter.

 

Optimism just didn’t help.

 

He breathed out and opened his mouth to reply when suddenly they were interrupted.

 

“Alright, guys?” Mick said, walking up next to the pair, causing Callum to jump.

 

“Jesus Mick, scared the shit out of me there,” Callum said, hand on his chest to try and help catch his breath.

 

Mick laughed heartily and slapped Callum on the back, “sorry son” he said, before asking “so what were you two talking about before I interrupted there? Looked a little heated.”

 

Callum and Frankie shared a look. Frankie’s said he’s your friend, you should make up an excuse! And Callum’s said you know all of my excuses are terrible! To which Frankie retaliated by looking away, ending their stare-fight and leaving Callum with the responsibility of coming up with something.

 

“Uh, just about, um, medicine?” Callum eventually landed on, and despite the cool French November air Callum felt warm under his collar.

 

“You don’t sound so sure of yourself” Mick replied, his eyebrows drawn together slightly, making his grin look confused rather than easy.

 

“No no I’m sure” Callum assured, wracking his brain for something believable to say “Frankie she uh, doesn’t think bandages should be used.”

 

Frankie pulled on his hand sharply as a punishment for his idiocy, and honestly, Callum knew he deserved it.

 

Mick, to his credit, took it in his stride “really? What should we use instead then doctor”

 

Frankie turned her head to the two men, a smile on her face that Callum knew was pained but to Mick probably just looked polite “oh, I uh-” she scrambled quickly for a believable answer “-don’t think we should use anything, blood clotting is far more effective”

 

Callum marvelled at her quick thinking for a second and squeezed her hand to show it, an action that was unsurprisingly not returned.

 

“Uh, okay” Mick replied, stroking a hand over his beard “you know I’ll be sticking to bandages but you let me know if your method ends up being any more effective”

 

Frankie laughed politely and said “I will, I will, anyway I need to see a soldier about a leg ache so I’ll meet you at the aid post later Callum”

 

“See ya,” Callum said as Frankie walked off.

 

He turned his head to Mick to start a new conversation, one preferably without any made up medical opinions, when he saw Mick smirking suggestively.

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t think I didn’t see what you two were doing?” Mick said, nudging Callum’s shoulder - or rather the middle of his bicep on account of their height difference - with his own.

 

“I don't-?” Callum said, confused. They had just been walking from what Callum could remember.

 

Mick raised his eyebrows, still smirking, and said “your hands? Or do you hold hands with all of your ‘best mates’?” He put ‘best mates’ in air quotes.

 

Callum’s jaw dropped and his eyes became wider than the diaphragm of his stethoscope.

 

“That wasn’t- we’re not- ” Callum tried to get out, stumbling over his words as clumsily as a toddler trying to climb the stairs.

 

“Ah don’t trouble yourself about it Callum, I won’t say a word,” Mick said, tapping his nose with his forefinger and walking off.

 

“Mick it’s not what you think, we-!” Callum called after him, the day already feeling two weeks long.

 

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

 

Callum didn’t mean to go everywhere Ben did that day, but if he had meant to then he would be succeeding.

 

It felt like everywhere he turned he was running into the guy, and it wasn’t like Callum hated seeing him around, rather the opposite, but he did hate the fumbling mess he’d turn into around Ben. It frustrated Callum to no end, he was a doctor for fucks sake, people skills were kind of in the job description.

 

Thankfully, Ben never stayed long enough for Callum to do any real damage to their hopefully blooming relationship, but he did stick around long enough for Callum to thoroughly embarrass himself.

 

Frankie said he came off as charming, Callum knew he came off as a knobhead.

 

He first ran into Ben an hour or so after Mick had left while organising medical supplies - he had been not so kindly told to do so by the head nurse, Ms Carter, after he joked about how messy the cupboards were, Callum swore she had something against him - and Ben had walked in with another soldier in his platoon who was cradling his left hand. It had been wrapped in a suspiciously red cloth, his face a contorted mess of pain.

 

“Hey, Doc! Johnson’s fucked his hand, mind taking a look?” Ben called over to Callum, who promptly trapped his hand in the cupboard door. Hissing in pain brought his hand up to his chest, a mirror of Johnson, and squeezed his eyes shut for a second. Before he opened them he felt a warm hand cover his shoulder. He almost relaxed into it before he realised how much of a bad idea that was.

 

“Hey, you alright?” he heard Ben say on his right, and Callum immediately snapped his eyes open at the sound.

 

Callum had meant to tell him he was fine, that he injured himself like this all the time, that there was no need to worry. What came out of his mouth however was “you cut your hair.”

 

Ben chuckled, confused, and brought a hand up to his freshly shaved sides that Callum would be imagining running his hands through right now if he wasn’t trying to figure out how to disappear into thin air.

 

“Uh, yeah, yeah I did, you sure you’re fine?” He gave Callum a look of concern, and Callum felt an undeniable urge to facepalm at his social ineptitude.

 

“D- uh- yeah! Yeah, I’m fine!” He sputtered out, shaking his hand and grimacing when a spark of pain shot through it. “I’m uh, just naturally pretty clumsy”

 

Ben chuckled slightly, a relieved expression replacing his concerned one and said “really? I thought you doctors were meant to have steady hands”

 

“Nah that’s surgeons, I am but a lowly emergency med doc” Callum replied.

 

Ben laughed again, lightly slapping Callum’s shoulder, causing a wave of warmth to spread throughout Callum’s body. It would be funny how smitten Callum already was with Ben if it didn’t get him in situations like this one.

 

“Hey uh, could I get some help here?” a weak voice asked from behind Ben. Callum quickly looked up and saw Johnson sitting heavily on the bed, face pale from the likely horrific pain coming from his arm.

 

Callum cursed himself silently, soldiers never came to the medical tent unless they really had to, so whatever was wrong with the man definitely couldn’t wait for Callum to flirt with his totally out of reach crush

 

“Oh, yes of course! So sorry” Callum said before rushing over.

 

“He sliced it open on his bayonet” Ben informed Callum as he walked over “fucking incredible amount of blood.”

 

“Blood always looks like much more than it really is” Callum replied almost automatically, having given the same response to worried family members hundreds of times during his rotations back in England.

 

He gently took Johnson’s hand in his own and carefully unwrapped the cloth, causing the soldier to hiss when the air touched his wound. It extended diagonally from the bottom right of his hand to the base of his pointer finger and Callum immediately felt bad for making the guy wait so long. The cut was deep and the skin was ragged, and Callum wondered if he could get the guy some whisky for when they cleaned the wound out. He would give him painkillers but they had to conserve them for bigger injuries like blown-off limbs, and besides, whisky was more effective.

 

As Callum thought through a treatment plan he felt Ben’s hand land back on his right shoulder.

 

“I’m gonna head off Doc, lieutenant will have my head if I’m away any longer” Ben informed Callum, flashing him a smile that made Callum’s heart stop.

 

“Uh, y-yeah sure, of course, can't go without a head, can you?” Callum sputtered out, and he started working out how long it would take him to walk to the nearest cliff.

 

“Uh, yeah, definitely not” Ben replied, smile less stunningly beautiful and more ‘what the literal shit is this guy talking about is he alright’.

 

Or at least that’s how Callum interpreted it.

 

Callum watched Ben go as he walked out of the tent, and sighed, wondering how one man could be so gorgeous just by walking.

 

Until he was snapped out of it by Johnson asking if he was going to let his wound clot instead of bandaging it like Mick said he would.

 

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

 

The next time Callum saw Ben was during lunch.

 

He and Frankie had been on their way to their usual spot to eat - a quickly dying patch of flowers a couple of hundred yards away from the aid post that Callum liked.

 

They’re such a nice colour, Frankie.

 

Yeah, dying brown, so pretty.

 

They had just gotten their food when Callum spotted the nurse with the messy bun Frankie liked, and, because he was an amazing friend, he pulled Frankie over by the arm to where she was sitting.

 

“The fuck are we going?” Frankie asked bewilderedly, tripping slightly as Callum yanked her along.

 

“Spotted that nurse you liked” Callum explained jovially, “we’re going to have lunch with her.”

 

Frankie’s eyes widened comically and she stopped in them in their tracks “are you fucking insane?! I can’t just go up to her!”

 

“Uh, and why not?” Callum challenged, crossing his arms and looking at Frankie with an expression he hoped was commanding.

 

Frankie looked at him incredulously, and Callum worried for a moment there was something on his face “well for starters we’ve never actually fucking spoken! What am I meant to do, sit down out of nowhere and ask how her day’s been?”

 

“Well, yeah” Callum replied, struggling to see the flaw in her plan.

 

Frankie just rolled her eyes and blew a piece of her hair out of her face. Callum could see the cogs turning in her brain and she considered her options. There was option A, don’t try to talk to the nurse and suffer through Callum taking the piss out of her for it, as well as risking him not even trying with Ben anymore, or option B, start a conversation with the woman and hope to God she didn't embarrass herself.

 

Frankie looked at Callum for a moment, her face a stony image of furious contemplation, before groaning out “Ugh, fine, ” and stomping past a smug Callum before she lost her nerve.

 

The nurse was sitting at a very scuffed up brown picnic table. Her hair was again in a messy bun at the bottom of her head and her hat was sitting next to her food while she ate. Opposite her was a soldier, who she seemed to be having a friendly conversation with. Callum couldn’t see the guy’s face since his back was to Callum but he seemed to be a little short, had soft brown hair that looked freshly shaven, hair Callum wouldn’t mind running his fingers through actually and - wait, oh fuck, fuck.

 

The soldier was Ben fucking Mitchell.

 

“Uh, maybe you shouldn’t speak to the nurse,” Callum said after stopping in his tracks. Frankie looked at him, baffled, before whipping around to see what was bothering him.

 

When she turned to look back at him there was nothing but pure exasperation on her face, and she signed “fuck off, if I’m talking to my gay crush then so are you” before dragging him over the same way he had been dragging her.

 

“No no, you were right this was a mistake and - oof” Callum exclaimed after Frankie shoved him into the table, smacking his knees against the bench and causing him to slap his hands against the table to avoid falling further. He looked back at Frankie scathingly, but she just signed “you’re welcome” back at him.

 

Callum knew she was just making sure Ben would notice him so he couldn’t run off, but fuck there must have been a better way to do it, he thought as he rubbed his sore knees.

 

“Uh, alright there doc?” Ben asked, bemused. He was on Callum’s left and had turned so that he was fully facing Callum, body twisted in a position that looked uncomfortable. Callum quirked an eyebrow at the sight but didn’t mention it.

 

“Uh, yeah, just tripped over my own feet there” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “C-can we sit with you two?”

 

“Of course!” the nurse said, and Callum swore he heard Frankie gasp when she did. Callum went to roll his eyes before remembering his freak out about Ben in the aid station the day before and quickly decided not to be a hypocrite.

 

“Cheers,” Callum thanked, before sliding onto the bench next to Ben. He sat his lunch down - a bit of beef and bread and some water - and looked up at Frankie who was doing the same, albeit with a very obvious blush.

 

Once she was looking at him he signed “nice blush,” smiling cheekily as he brought his hands up the side of his face to say “blush.”

 

Frankie scowled and formed a circle with her hand, bringing up to her forehead, down, and back up to call him a dickhead.

 

Callum went to retaliate when next to him Ben choked on the water he had started sipping. Callum thwacked him on the back as he coughed.

 

“You alright soldier?” Frankie asked, and Callum could hear her doctor voice threatening to take over.

 

“Fine fine, just went down the wrong pipe is all” Ben replied, gasping for air slightly as he thanked Callum with a nod.

 

“So Frankie,” the nurse began after Ben caught his breath, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, and I hope this doesn’t sound rude but-” and Callum winced a little knowing where the conversation was going.

 

In their time being friends Callum had seen Frankie deal with a lot to do with her being deaf, or more specifically people’s reactions to her being deaf. She already surprised a lot of people by being a woman in medicine, but being deaf on top of that? Callum honestly didn’t know how she hadn’t murdered someone yet.

 

She got all sorts, from other doctors treating her like a student rather than a professional probably more skilled than them, to patients outright refusing to be treated by her out of fear she’ll do a bad job. It was infuriating, and Callum had no idea how Frankie remained so calm when it happened.

 

Once, Callum got in an argument with another doctor who was being incredibly demeaning towards Frankie. He had been talking over her, second-guessing her in front of patients, basically doing everything he could to let Frankie know he didn’t respect her. So Callum, furious at his friend being treated like shit, told the guy off, initiating an almost screaming match with him.

 

Frankie had pulled him out of the room to somewhere just them. Callum had been worried she was going to cry or something equally heartbreaking, but what he hadn’t expected was her getting mad. At Callum.

 

“What the fuck was that?” she had signed at him, anger radiating off her in waves, making Callum recoil slightly.

 

“Why are you mad at me? He was being an asshole!” Callum had signed back, feeling blind-sighted, and slightly hurt Frankie was being so mean when he had just been trying to help.

 

“I know! But you can’t scream at every asshole, Callum!” Frankie had replied, hands exploding into furious sign.

 

Callum scoffed angrily, before signing “I was just trying to protect you!”

 

“I don’t need you to fucking protect me! I need you to support me!”  Frankie had replied, seething.

 

That’d made Callum falter for a second, confused, because wasn’t that what he had done?

 

“What do you mean?” he’d asked, a dreadful feeling he had done something really wrong creating a pit in his belly.

 

Then it had been Frankie’s turn to scoff before quickly signing “I don’t need you to fight my battles, I am perfectly capable of doing that myself and I don’t need getting babied by you when everyone else already does so.”

 

Then Frankie tucked her hair behind her ears, face relaxing into a calmer expression “I didn’t want to make a scene, but you took that decision away from me when you stepped in without asking.”

 

“Frankie,” Callum had breathed out, feeling like a bigger asshole than that shitty doctor.

 

Frankie had smiled at him sympathetically then, and signed “thank you for caring, but please fuck off if you think I can’t protect myself”

 

Callum had laughed a little at that, and signed “I’m sorry, I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was just treating you like everyone you hate.”

 

“Next time just follow my lead yeah? If I want you to yell at someone I’ll tell you” Frankie had replied, giggling as she did.

 

That had made Callum smile and he nodded in agreement before asking “anything I can do right now?”

 

Callum would never forget the soft, loved-filled expression Frankie had, her eyes sparkling before opening her arms, signalling him to come in for a hug, which he gladly did.

 

Callum smiled at the memory and knew no matter what the nurse said Frankie would be able to handle it, and he was always ready to jump in if she asked.

 

“-it’s just I’m always seeing you two signing and you know, I don’t want to be rude but-”

 

“You want to know if I’m deaf?” Frankie guessed, cutting off the nurse’s nervous rambling by placing a hand on hers.

 

It took everything in Callum not to gape at the sight, absolutely bewildered as to how Frankie could go from being starstruck at the sight of the nurse to fucking holding hands. The thought of him holding Ben's hand made him feel sick with anxiety.

 

“Y-yeah, as I said, I didn’t want to be rude, you know, ruin your first impression of me” the nurse replied.

 

Frankie smiled at the woman, “nah, don’t worry about it, and yeah I am” she moved her hair to better show off her hearing aids “got the machinery and all.”

 

“Woh, must be a right pain lugging that about all the time,” the nurse said, studying Frankie’s ears intently.

 

Frankie laughed, and squeezed the woman’s hand “ah, you get used to it.”

 

They locked eyes for a moment, and Callum felt as though he was interrupting something private before the nurse jerked a little, and exclaimed: “oh how rude of me I haven’t even introduced myself yet!”

 

She stuck her free hand out towards Frankie and said “I’m Bernadette but everyone calls me Bernie” Frankie shook the offered hand with the wrong one since the right one was still holding Bernie’s other hand [I am literally so sorry for that sentence lmao] and she was not about to let go.

 

“Frankie” she responded, smiling as though she had won the lottery.

 

“I’m Callum!” Callum interjected, causing the pair opposite him to turn around, surprised, as if they had forgotten Ben and Callum were there. He responded to Frankie’s glare with a grin.

 

“Nice to meet you” Bernie responded, smiling unlike Frankie, and stuck her hand out to Callum, who shook it firmly. “I assume you’ve already met Ben?” She asked.

 

“Yeah yeah,” Callum replied, before turning so he was facing the side of Ben’s face and adding “saw me nearly break my hand this morning, actually.”

 

He had expected Ben to laugh, maybe tease him a little, but he was met with silence as if Ben hadn’t even heard him. Callum frowned, worried he had said something wrong and now Ben was ignoring him, despite that being impossible since he had barely spoken ten words to the man since they got here. In Callum’s defence, he wasn’t exactly rational when it came to Ben.

 

“Ben?” Bernie prompted, causing Ben to start and look around at the three of them.

 

“Sorry, zoned out for a second there” he turned to Callum a sheepish smile on his face and asked, “what did you say?”

 

Callum blinked, unable to think for a second with Ben’s focus entirely on him, distracted by those steely blue eyes gazing into his own. “Uh, just, you saw me about break my hand today,” he ended with a smile, hoping his words didn’t come off as awkward as he felt.

 

Thankfully, it seemed that they hadn’t, since Ben let out a bark of laughter and exclaimed “oh yeah! Didn’t half frighten me.”

 

He turned back to face the women and started to regale them with the story of that morning. Callum let his gaze linger on the soldier, momentarily curious as to what had just happened, if Ben really had just zoned out, or if there was something more.

 

After a moment, however, he turned back to the women in front of him, deciding to leave it alone.

 

It was probably nothing.

 

 

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

 

The next time Callum saw Ben he had meant to ask Whitney something but had completely forgotten what it was when he saw Ben next to her.

 

He was going to walk - not run, Frankie - back to the other side of the medical tent when Whitney caught his eye and waved him over.

 

Shaking slightly Callum slowly walked over to the pair, hoping the ground would swallow him up before he arrived.

 

Thankfully, Ben walked away before Callum got there, bidding Whitney a quick goodbye before heading towards the exit. 

 

Thank fuck Callum had thought, glad to miss another opportunity to do something strange in front of Ben.

 

On the way out, however, Ben brushed shoulders with Callum and flashed him a smile, which would have been fine if it hadn’t suddenly turned Callum into a baby giraffe still learning how to walk. He tried to smile back but instead tripped over a nearby table, sending him crashing to the floor.

 

If Callum ever needed confirmation that the universe hated him, this would be the moment.

 

“Callum, are you okay?” came Whitney’s worried call as she rushed over to his side, crouching down to grab his face and check it for injuries.

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine” Callum reassured her, grinning at her in a way he hoped was heartening for her “just as clumsy as ever.”

 

Whitney smiled back and gave his shoulder a playful shove “I swear you hurt yourself more than those soldiers out there.” Callum laughed and nodded in agreement, and watched her walk back to whatever she had been doing.

 

She wasn’t wrong, not by a mile, Frankie and Mick were always getting at him to be more careful as if he wouldn’t if he could. If Callum was superstitious he would think his clumsiness was a result of being followed around by dickish ghosts that pushed him into things for the love of it.

 

“Fucking hell, sorry mate,” Ben said behind Callum, causing Callum to snap his head up to look at Ben. He was stood over Callum, eyebrows pinched together, eyes wide, and his mouth in a frown. All in all, he looked worried about Callum.

 

Callum felt his heart flutter.

 

“N-no don’t be, you barely touched me” Callum replied, trying to school his features into something not totally lovestruck.

 

“I should’ve paid more mind to where I was going” Ben grumbled, extending a hand out towards Callum.

 

Callum looked at Ben’s hand for a beat, an awkward moment passing by before Callum caught on and grabbed Ben’s hand to help haul himself up, quietly screaming internally because holy shit they were holding hands.

 

Only, they completely underestimated each other’s strength and each pulled way too hard, causing Callum to crash into Ben, arms flying around the man’s shoulders to steady himself, Ben’s coming up to grab Callum’s waist.

 

In the kerfuffle, Callum’s eyes found Frankie, who had just walked into the tent. She took one look at the chaos, smirked at him, and signed “idiot” before walking away.

 

If Callum hadn’t been freaking out he would’ve been impressed by how effortlessly cool she managed to be.

 

“Uh,” he heard Ben say, and was quickly reminded of what was happening. He ripped himself out of Ben’s arms, ignoring how cold he suddenly felt, and stood up straight.

 

Callum has had his fair share of traumatic events but fuck if that wasn’t the worst thing he had ever done.

 

“S-sorry!” he managed to stutter out, a hand reaching out to brush a speck of dust off Ben’s uniform before thinking better of it and bringing it up to rub the back of his neck nervously.

 

Ben huffed out a laugh and smiled slightly, “no worries, underestimated my own strength a little there.”

 

Callum smiled anxiously, mumbling out a feeble “me too.”

 

“Well uh,” Ben began, eyes drifting over to the exit “better um, better head.”

 

“Yeah, yeah of course! Don’t let me keep you”

 

Ben nodded and took a step towards the exit, before pausing, obviously having some sort of internal debate. He looked back at Callum and said “actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he dropped his voice and leaned in closer “would you meet me out by the tree? Have something I need to say.”

 

Callum felt his breath catch in his throat.

 

At the base, there was very little greenery. The most they got in the way of green spaces was a couple of patches of quickly dying grass, those dying flowers Callum loved, and a few shrubs littered about. However, right near the outskirts of the camp was a massive elm tree. It was comprised of five dark brown trunks, each with a multitude of branches spiralling off in every which way, creating beautiful, weaving patterns between them, and since it was winter most of the leaves had turned brown and fallen off, leaving it bare and naked.

 

What made Callum lose his breath however wasn’t the tree itself, it’s what it was known for, what it was known to be used for.

 

The thing about the tree being so close to the boundaries of the base was that it was very removed from the main areas. It was about a five-minute walk from the nearest building or tent, meaning you were very unlikely to bump into anyone, and more importantly you were very unlikely to be overheard or seen by anyone.

 

It was common knowledge that the tree was used for things people would rather keep private, like settling arguments with fists away from meddling superior officers, trading drugs under the cover of the moon, two (or more) people enjoying a night together in the privacy unafforded to them by their tiny tents or the trenches. It was a no man’s land of sorts, where the rules didn’t apply because there was no one there to enforce them.

 

Callum gulped, and breathed out a “yeah, what time?”

 

Ben exhaled and grinned slightly as if he was relieved Callum had agreed.

 

What if that smile means he- a small, hopeful voice in Callum’s head began before he ruthlessly cut it off.

 

“Nine tonight” Ben replied, before winking and adding “don’t be late!” Before turning on his heel and walking out of the tent.

 

Callum watched him leave, dumbstruck, head empty except for one thought.

 

Frankie’s going to have a fucking field day.

 

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

 

“Run that by me again” Frankie signed, movements quick and her face a picture of solid disbelief, not dissimilar to her expression when Callum signed with her for the first time.

 

“I fell over, he pulled me up, and before Ben left he invited me to the fucking tree ” Callum signed back, movements equally quick. He sat down heavily onto one of the beds meant for patients (not before quickly scanning the area for Ms Carter, who’d have his head if she caught him), then sighed out deeply and suppressed the need to sink his head onto the pillow and scream.

 

It was nearing 8:45 and Callum was shitting himself.

 

“Right well, what are you doing here? You’d better get going” Frankie signed, giving Callum’s knee a shove when she was done.

 

“I don’t know if I can, what if it’s something bad?” Callum replied, worrying his lip as worst-case scenarios flashed before his eyes. What if he had said something wrong at lunch? What if Ben tried to pressure him into getting him drugs? What if, and the thought of this made Callum’s stomach drop, what if he knew about Callum’s crush and just wanted to beat the gay out of him?

 

As he fretted Frankie rolled her eyes and dropped herself onto the bed. She took his hand, looked straight into his eyes, and said “stop. Fucking. Worrying.” She punctuated each word with a squeeze to his hand, making Callum smile despite himself.

 

He wanted to go, he really did, it was just so risky.

 

“But-” he began, before Frankie huffed and quickly brought her free hand up to cover Callum’s mouth, cutting him off.

 

“No fucking buts! You are going, end of” she exclaimed. She studied Callum’s eyes for a moment before continuing “if I take my hand off will you say that you’ll go?”

 

Callum looked back at her and thought for a moment. On one hand, he might be walking into a beating, but on the other, he might be walking into a situation he thought could only live out in his dreams.

 

The risk was real, and there was no guarantee that Callum wouldn’t end up hurt, but he was a fucking army doctor, taking risks was a part of the job.

 

Taking a deep breath in and out through his nose Callum steeled himself and nodded once, prompting Frankie to slowly lower her hand, eyes locked with his as she did, watching for a sign of him going back on what he had just promised.

 

She didn’t find one though, and once Callum could speak he said “I’m going to go,” causing Frankie to smile a wide, happy smile, her eyes crinkling because of its strength.

 

“Well, good luck soldier, and you’d better tell me everything” she replied, before pulling him into a crushing hug.

 

Callum laughed, and hugged back equally tight, rubbing a hand up and down her back. He was still scared about meeting Ben, but with Frankie’s support his fear felt less crushing.

 

They pulled back, and after a beat Frankie signed “I love you.”

 

Callum broke into his own face splitting grin and signed back “I love you too.”

 

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

 

Cautiously, Callum walked the unfamiliar path to the tree. He’d never had cause to go before, he only knew the way because another doctor insisted that he had to and showed him. At the time the man’s insistence had annoyed Callum, but now he was immensely grateful.

 

It had just gone 9pm, and Callum was coming up to the tree. It was a cold night, and its numerous branches were all covered in frost, beautifully lit up by the moonlight. Rather romantic, Callum thought, before scoffing at himself for even entertaining such an idea.

 

As Callum got closer he realised Ben was standing under the tree, hands anxiously hitting against each other. Callum didn’t like to see Ben worried, but it was better than him being angry.

 

Suddenly, Ben’s head turned towards Callum, and they locked eyes. Ben looked nervous, eyebrows punched together, the corners of his mouth turned down, and his hair slightly messy as if he had been threading his fingers through it just for something to do with his hands.

 

“Ben, are you alright-” Callum started, before he was cut off by Ben grabbing the lapels of his jacket, and pulling him in for a searing kiss.

Chapter 3: The Cliff of Awakening (and the Ravine of Sorrow)

Summary:

The story of Ben and Paul

Notes:

RIGHT let's start this with warnings:
Mentions of a homophobic attack
Alluding to a homophobic attack that ends in death
Descriptions of internalised homophobia
Descriptions of a homophobic parent
Gay man is forced into a heterosexual marriage
Alluding to a teenage girl being forced to keep a pregnancy
Teenage girl being forced to get married
I don't believe I've detailed any violence graphically but if anyone thinks otherwise PLEASE tell me, and similarly if I missed any warnings PLEASE tell me also.

This chapter alludes to teenagers having sex but they were all 16 which is legal in the UK!

Ben Lola and Paul are all 16 in this chapter, and Jay is 17-18!

This took,,,,,,,so long so write but it was worth it for the end result (which I'm really proud of dshhsu). This isn't a very humorous chapter because of the subject matter but the next one will be more light-hearted (and out quicker I SWEAR hferhfebjbd).
This is unbeta'd and I'm kinda half asleep so there will probably be some mistakes lmao

Ben hadn’t always known he was gay.

 

Or well, that’s a bit of a lie, because he’d always had an awareness that something was wrong, it’s just that it took him a while to figure out what exactly the problem was. Why he wasn’t like all the other boys in his street, who wolf-whistled and catcalled women because that’s what their elder brothers did.

 

Not that Ben didn’t do all that as well, he had to if he didn’t want to be called all those weird names Sam at number 11 did, the ones that’d made Ben’s stomach feel like a lead weight. At the time Ben hadn’t even been sure what those words meant, just that getting called them was usually a precursor to a beating.

 

The problem was it never stopped being about fitting in for Ben like it did everyone else.

 

Eventually, his friends stopped taking cues from the older boys about what they thought they were meant to be doing and started doing things because they wanted to, because they enjoyed it, and that never happened for Ben.

 

Instead of calling out to every woman who breathed his friends developed preferences, only harassing women who did their hair exactly so, or whose eyes were just that right shade of mahogany.

 

All of their standards were so specific and personal to each friend that Ben couldn’t copy without them knowing, but he couldn’t decide his own set of conditions because he didn’t have any, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why .

 

He’d asked Jay what he liked in women. Jay didn’t hang out with Ben’s friends since he was two years up, so they wouldn’t find out he was just copying, since doing what everyone else did wasn’t allowed anymore, for some reason.

 

Jay liked blondes, with either green or hazel eyes, that were preferably shorter than him, but he was flexible about that because at thirteen most girls were taller than Jay. So then that’s what Ben’s friends had thought he liked, although he still didn’t understand what was so different about them, they looked the same as any other girl to him.

 

When he and his friends got to secondary school it suddenly became a crime to not be at the dance hall every Friday night looking for a nice girl (or several) to share a couple of songs with. In the beginning, it didn’t bother Ben too much because what was one more expectation? What was one more barrier to get past in order to reach acceptance? To be normal? And besides, he rather liked dancing, he was good at it, even. Or at least that’s what his mum always said.

 

So he went to the dance halls, he danced with the girls, and he kissed whichever one he’d waltzed with last at the end of the night before going home because that’s what his friends did, that’s what he had to do to not end up like Sammy.

 

When Ben was 15, he’d been at the dance hall just like every Friday, about to go home after kissing Tonya goodnight. He’d danced with her a few Fridays in a row at that point, and his friends said that meant she wanted to go steady. Ben hadn’t been sure though, whenever Jay went steady with a girl he always talked about her, about how adorable her laugh was, what gift he was planning on getting her, her favourite movies. Ben couldn’t remember how Tonya laughed, didn’t know what gift to get her, he didn’t even know if she liked movies, let alone what her favourites were.

 

Maybe Tonya just hadn’t it been for him, or at least that’s what Ben had told himself.

 

He had walked around the back of the hall in order to take the shortcut home. His mum hadn’t liked him taking it when it was dark, but at 15 he’d decided he was grown up enough for it to be okay, he was a man and had to act like it, just like his dad always said.

 

At the end of the night, Ben’s way was usually pretty deserted, most people keeping to the pavement with all the street lights, rather than walking about behind the dark building. It was also normally pretty dead quiet because said the lack of people.

 

That night, however, Ben heard voices. Two familiar voices, coming from the alley in between the hall and the closed restaurant next door. The alley Ben had to go through in order to get home.

 

Ben wasn’t shy by any means, having Phil Mitchell for a dad meant that he couldn’t be, so he shouldn’t have had any problem pushing past whoever the voices belonged to. Keywords being ‘shouldn’t have’ though, because Ben definitely had a problem that night.

 

From his position pressed up against the cold, rough bricks of the dance hall right next to the entry of the alley, Ben had heard Sam say “so are we going to keep bleatherin’ or are you going to kiss me?”

 

And then Paul’s voice answered “someone’s impatient” before sounds that were definitely of kissing floated through the air into Ben’s left ear.

 

He’d sat next to Paul in both English and maths since first year. They hadn’t talked much, but Ben really liked him, or at least really liked his hair, the way the dark brown, almost black curls would sometimes droop over his eyes when it was due for a cut, and how he’d spend the whole lesson blowing it out of his field of vision. Ben had guessed he was just jealous his hair wasn’t as nice as Paul’s, steadfastly ignoring a niggling feeling he was missing something huge.

 

He’d had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from making a noise. He should’ve been angry - wanted to be angry - because hadn’t he been supposed to beat them up or something? Teach them that kissing boys was wrong and dirty because that’s what his dad did?

 

His dad was scary Phil Mitchell, the man no one in the neighbourhood wanted to cross, especially if you were queer. Ben can still remember the pained shouts and yells of the man who used to live at number 4. Ben and his dad had been on their way to a late-night viewing of Bachelor’s Baby and caught the guy kissing some random bloke out behind the caff.

 

They ended up not making the movie.

 

So Ben had tried desperately to work up the courage to storm down the alley and start swinging just like his dad would’ve, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling of something clicking. It was like he was on a cliff’s edge with one part of himself begging to jump off it, promising you’ll fly if you do, you’ll soar through the clouds and you’ll be free of everything that holds you back, while another part screamed in a familiar voice no no you’ll fall and die, you won’t soar you’ll plummet to the ground it’s too dangerous!

 

So he just stood there, while two boys made out the way his friends and Jay had always described, the way Ben had never experienced.

 

Sure, he had given plenty of pecks, sometimes two in a row when he was feeling bold, but going the full way had just never appealed to him. Girls lips were too soft, too gentle, too delicate, which hadn’t made sense because according to all the boys around him those qualities were what made girls so appealing.

 

As he reached a hand over the cliff’s edge Ben thought he’d been starting to realise why.

 

Eventually, and Ben’s not sure exactly how long it took, he reached a breaking point where he couldn’t listen to it anymore, he had needed to make it stop because it had made that hopeful, earnest part of himself all the more sure that stepping off the cliff would be a good idea. He‘d rounded the corner, fists clenched in his trouser pockets in order to hide how fucking terrified he’d been and called out “what’s happening here then, lads?”

 

Sam had been the one to break the kiss. He’d shoved Paul off and backed himself against the wall, hands flying up defensively next to his petrified face, eyes almost comically large and mouth so wide open it must’ve hurt. Paul still had his back to Ben, and at the time Ben had guessed he’d just been too scared to move.

 

“I-I don’t want any trouble, Ben!” Sam had stuttered out, eyes flickering to the area behind Ben presumably to make sure Ben was alone.

 

“Aw well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you defiled this alley Sammy” Ben had cooed out condescending, his trademark snarky grin covering his face with practised ease, hiding how disgusted he’d felt with himself. He hadn’t understood why he’d felt like that, he’d been doing what his dad did, so why hadn’t it felt right? Why had the fluffy clouds that had drifted high above the cliff looked so inviting?

 

“Shove off Ben, you’re not going to do shit” Paul had said, turning around to reveal a relaxed, amused smile on his face, making Ben’s own drop off in shock. He was supposed to have been scared like Sam, not look at Ben like he knew something not even Ben knew about himself.

 

“What the fuck did you just say?” Ben had growled, stepping towards Paul and pushing his shoulder roughly. Infuriatingly, the boy had just swayed with the motion, his smile never once faltering and his gaze steadily pouring into Ben’s eyes. It had made Ben want to punch him. Or maybe not punch him exactly, he’d just wanted to do something to Paul, not knowing what.

 

His eyes had kept flicking down to Paul's lips, which was so annoying . He was supposed to be glaring at Paul, intimidating him, but like a moth to a flame, Ben's gaze had kept being pulled down.

 

Paul’s lips were another thing about him Ben had always found himself watching in class. The way they pursed whenever he was thinking hard, how he'd rub at them whenever he was unsure or nervous, his absolutely blinding smile, that had made Ben's tummy feel weird and fluttery.

 

From Paul's confident, shit-eating grin he had noticed Ben's flickering gaze.

 

"What's wrong Benny? Not going to beat the fag out of me?" Paul had asked lowly, the smile that had been plastered on his face stretching from ear to ear and Ben had needed to concentrate hard on suppressing that fluttery feeling in his tummy.

 

Ben didn't - couldn't - say anything. It was like Paul's words were a spell cast to take away Ben's voice, making it so the only thing he was able to get past his lips was his short, heavy breaths. In response to Ben's silence, Paul had stepped closer into his space, so close Ben had been able to feel Paul's breath fanning across his face, like the excited breeze inviting him to step off the cliff and fly with it.

 

"I-I'm-" Ben had stuttered out, giving up on keeping eye contact and finally allowing his eyes to settle on Paul's lips. His proximity to Ben had made his head spin and his train of thought lead nowhere but to Paul.

 

To his lips which had been stretched into that easy smile that he'd flashed at Ben constantly in class, the one that never failed to warm his chest and make him smile too.

 

(Ben stepped closer to the cliff edge).

 

To his curly, unruly, walnut hair, that had been cut short enough that Paul would've had no problem seeing, but long enough that if he reached out Ben knew he would've been able to grasp onto a good handful of it.

 

(He took a deep breath and dangled a foot over the edge).

 

To his beautiful (beautiful?) yes, beautiful fucking eyes, almost the same dark brown as his hair but when the moonlight caught them just right they shone the most perfect shade of cinnamon.

 

(He jumped).

 

Ben crashed his lips into Paul's, grabbing his cheek with his left hand as he did. At the back of his mind, he could hear that same pessimistic voice from the cliff that sounded a lot like his dad screeching about how this was wrong and dirty and you've just bought your ticket to hell! but Ben didn't care. He'd jumped, he had made his decision, all he needed now was for Paul to show him it was the right one.

 

Because he hadnt been flying, not quite yet. He'd been suspended in midair, the breeze calm and quiet, the clouds above still and unmoving, the other voice that actually sounded a lot like himself telling him how brave he'd been and that no matter what happened it was proud of him and so so thankful.

 

Afterwards, Ben had marveled at how unafraid he'd been. He should've been terrified, shaking, maybe even crying, but he hadn't. He hadn't been hopeful or excited either mind you, he hadn't been anything really, all he'd done was wait for Paul to decide if he would fly through the clouds or come crashing down.

 

Paul had possessed two options at that moment, the first being the most likely one, where he shoved Ben off, yelled abuse at him because you can't threaten a guy for kissing another bloke and then do the same barely thirty seconds afterwards, and run off, leaving Ben to sulk or scream or weep.

 

Thankfully, for Ben, he’d chosen the second option.

 

In which he slid his arms around Ben's waist, pulling him in as tight as possible, and kissed back with the same ferocity as Ben.

 

As soon as Paul had done so it had been like everything was suddenly happening in double time. The breeze had become even more excited than before, dancing all around Ben and causing a whooshing noise to sound in his ear. The clouds had begun to swirl into intricate shapes, some resembling Paul's beautiful smile, others their kiss, but all incredibly fluffy and huge and impossibly white. The voice had begun to celebrate, its cheers echoing through the air while it screamed congratulations at Ben, how it knew everything would turn out okay.

 

Ben himself had been flying, he’d soared through the air, reaching ever higher when Paul backed him into the wall, when he licked into Ben's mouth, when he grabbed Ben's hand and placed it in his hair and Ben found out that yes, he was right, he could grasp a very good handful of it.

 

His lips had been so different than all of that of all the girls he had kissed up until that point. They weren’t soft, they were perfectly chapped, they moved roughly against his own, not at all like the gentle, barely-there way girls’ lips always moved, and not once did Ben worry he was kissing too hard, not once was he afraid of hurting Paul, because his lips were strong and the farthest thing from delicate.

 

The biggest difference, Ben would later realise, is that he’d actually enjoyed kissing Paul.

 

Kissing girls had always felt like a chore, an obligation, an act of politeness that had to happen in order to not insult the girl he’d been with. He’d never craved a girl’s lips before, never lost his breath from a single brush of their mouth against his, never felt like everything was centred on that contact point between them like everything would be okay as long as their lips kept moving against one another.

 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me in class,” Paul had gasped out in between kisses, grasping Ben’s waist so hard Ben had idly wondered if he’d be left with bruises (he hadn’t been, and Ben had tried to not be disappointed), “and I know you feel the same way I do.”

 

That had made Ben’s brain shortcircuit slightly (or massively) because not even Ben knew what he’d felt towards Paul. Fuck, five minutes beforehand he hadn’t even known he wanted to kiss him.

 

“I don’t-” Ben had mumbled, eyes still pressed shut out of fear that looking at Paul would have made it all too real, that he really had been kissing a guy and it hadn’t all been an elaborate dream he would try his absolute best to forget about the morning after.

 

“Paul I-I don’t know how I feel about any of this” Ben had admitted quietly, the hand that hadn’t been fisted in Paul’s hair grabbing tight on his collar in order to try and ground himself. Flying was fun, but he’d needed to be able to think about what he was going to say next, the moment had felt too important to just blurt out anything.

 

“But?” Paul had said, equally quiet. He’d sounded so calm and patient, and he’d started rubbing Ben’s waist in reassuring circles. With his eyes shut Ben could have sworn he’d felt the gentle remnants of the breeze circling his legs like Paul’s thumb on his waist, whispering ideas of what to say.

 

Ben opened his eyes, happy to find he hadn’t been as scared as he thought he would have been, in fact, he’d felt safer than he’d ever felt in his life.

 

“I know I like this” he’d said simply, staring confidently into Paul’s eyes, elation shooting through his bones when he saw them soften, the corners creasing as his face broke into that fucking beautiful smile Ben had lo- liked so much.

 

What had made Paul smiling so amazing was the fact that Ben had put that smile on his face. He’d gone into that alley with the intention of causing pain doing something his dad wanted him to do, and instead, he’d caused happiness doing something he’d wanted.

 

“I like this too,” Paul had replied, smoothing a hand over Ben’s hair as he did, “and I’d like to keep doing it if you do too.”

 

For a split second, Ben had wondered what would have happened if he’d said no. Paul would probably have run off, smile replaced with a frown, maybe angry, maybe annoyed, although Ben thought that the worst version would be a sad frown. School the next day would have been awkward seeing as he’d had English first thing. Would Paul have ignored him? Pretended everything was normal, even though nothing could ever be more abnormal? Or would he have simply moved seats, avoiding Ben and everything that happened between them in the alley?

 

Thankfully, Ben never found out what would have happened, seeing as he’d leaned back in and kissed Paul senseless for the second time that night, breathing out a firm “of course” before he did so.

-------------

They’d been together for exactly one month.

 

It had been the best month of Ben’s life because finally, he didn’t have to play pretend every minute of the day. Finally, he had someone he could be himself around, someone who didn’t care that he wasn’t tough 24/7, that he liked silly camp musicals, and that he went to dance halls just to dance, not to pull random girls.

 

He finally had someone who liked him for who he was, and not what he could do for them.

 

It had been a month of fleeting kisses pressed quickly against lips when Ben was sure no one else was around, of hands ever so lightly grazing against each other when they walked side by side on the way to school, of secret smiles shared from either end of a classroom that only they knew the meaning of.

 

There was always an underlying fear behind these actions, and maybe in a different world and a different time, things would have been different. Maybe their kisses would have lingered and turned into something more, maybe they would have clasped their hands tightly together and swung them while they walked, maybe they would have sent playful air kisses to each other from across the room, making their friends groan at them lightheartedly but be secretly pleased for their happiness. Maybe in another time and another place they could’ve just been Them with no terms and conditions attached.

 

Hand-holding especially was something that Ben had really yearned for.

 

He’d watch straight couples hold hands in the street a lot, committing the different ways they did it to memory so when the world felt especially bleak he could imagine him holding Paul’s hand in the same ways.

 

Some would wrap their hand around their partner’s, palms pressed together and finger’s wrapped around the back of the hand as if they were gripping a broom handle. It was the kind of hold you use to clutch onto a child’s hand, leading them along and protecting them from things that could harm them if they happened to stumble in the way. It was as if the couple were similarly protecting each other from harm, looking out for one another because of how much they loved and cared for one another.

 

Others would interlace their fingers, locking their hands together and making sure there was no chance of their hand accidentally slipping from the other’s. By weaving their fingers so tightly together it was like they were openly admitting for anyone to see that they didn’t want to be without this person, without their person for even a second. To Ben, it was both the strongest hold and the one with the most vulnerability.

 

The last type of hold that Ben saw was the one he found the sweetest. Sometimes, and it was usually teenagers like him who did this, couples would gently link their pinkies together, joining their hands by the most delicate fingers. For this reason, that hold was by far the weakest, but simultaneously it was also the only one Ben had never seen break. He’d seen hands gently slip away from each other in the first hold, break almost painfully apart when people walked too far in front of their partner in the second hold, but he’d never seen pinkies break away from each other.

 

He liked to think it was the strength of their young blooming love that kept them together, but then Paul always did tease him for being a soppy romantic.

 

He remembers once while he waited outside a corner shop for Paul he saw a couple walking along the opposite side of the road. The girl was just a little bit short than Ben, had hair so dark it was almost charcoal tied up into a tight bun, and one of the most adoring expressions Ben had ever seen painted across her face. She was staring up at her boyfriend, who was maybe a head taller than Ben, had tawny, closely cropped hair, and was speaking about something Ben couldn’t hear, hands flailing as he talked passionately.

 

For a second, Ben felt annoyed with the boy. He had a girlfriend who was looking up at him as though he was describing the eighth wonder of the world and he wasn’t even sparing her a glance, wasn’t even holding her hand despite the fact that he was allowed.

 

As if feeling the weight of Ben’s pointed annoyance the boy finally looked down at his girlfriend, and immediately her expression was mirrored in his. Ben smiled too, warmed by the obvious display of love.

 

The boy reached down, and carefully linked their pinkies together, making the girl giggle sweetly and lean into him. The boy giggled back and brought their hands up to his lips, and kissed her pinkie over the join.

 

Alright?” Paul greeted from Ben’s left, causing him to rip his gaze away from the happy sight.

 

“Alright,” Ben replied, gaze floating down to Paul’s pinky, and wondering what it would feel like to link it with his own.

 

----------------------------------------

 

He doesn’t have to wonder long, thankfully for him, as he finds out what it feels like on a windy day after school.

 

He and Paul are studying together in Ben’s room, or well, that’s what Phil downstairs thinks they’re doing. Really they’re sitting together on Ben’s bed talking about everything and the next thing, their workbooks forgotten on the floor.

 

To be fair, they had been studying a novel for English, until Ben mentioned off-handedly that one of the words in the title of the book had been his first word in sign. That prompted Paul to ask for a quick lesson, which had turned into a long one, and eventually, they somehow got on the topic of what they’d bring with them to an abandoned island.

 

During a peaceful lull in the conversation, Ben looks over at Paul’s hand and like magnets, he feels his pinky fill with the need to link with Paul’s. As if they’re two parts of a whole that have to be together or else the entire universe will fall apart.

 

He doesn’t know how long he was looking at Paul’s hand, but it was long enough for him to notice, smirking at Ben and asking teasingly, “there something you want, Ben?”

 

It made Ben tear his eyes away and up at the ceiling, internally cursing because he just knew his face was going scarlet.

 

“N-no,” he stuttered out, curling his hand into a fist so it wouldn’t betray him and fly over to Paul’s on its own accord.

 

He wasn’t that he thought Paul would’ve laughed at him, or been mean to him about his desire, on the contrary, he knew Paul would really like it. He was always pleased when Ben initiated something between them, especially if that something was sweet like this certainly was.

 

But initiating was hard and embarrassing for any teenager, especially one who had to overcome years of deeply ingrained homophobia to do it.

 

Every time Ben tried to do something with Paul he would always hear Phil’s voice telling him how wrong it was, or how disgusting it was, or just plain insulting him. Which, for a boy so desperate for his father’s approval, wasn’t an easy thing to fight past every time he wanted to give his boyfriend a kiss.

 

‘Doing things with Paul always feels really good though’ Ben thought when the wind was especially loud outside his window. He looked back over at Paul’s hand and dared to flick his eyes up to Paul’s. They were gazing at him steadfastly, almost daring him to do it, whispering ‘we both know what you want to do, so just do it’.

 

Like the wind that was picking up at his window, an adrenaline fueled rushing noise sounded in Ben’s ear.

 

He flicked his eyes back down to Paul’s hand. It was laying between them with his fingers outstretched but curved and relaxed. They were tanned, like the rest of Paul, and thick, but because of their length, they had the illusion of slenderness. Ben simply thought they were beautiful, and he’d imagined them doing many things not limited to just hand-holding ever since that night in the alley.

 

He loved them even, just like he maybe, just slightly, loved Paul (but that was a thought for another day).

 

Paul’s pinky was lying slightly further out towards Ben than the rest of his fingers as if it too was a magnet attracted hopelessly to Ben’s.

 

“You know,” Ben breathed out, eyes still trained on Paul’s pinkie, “I saw a couple with their pinkies linked the other day”

 

“Oh?” Paul replied. If Ben dared look up he was sure he’d see the other’s trademark flirty smirk, the one that was partly why he’d taken that leap in the alley.

 

“Yeah, I saw them while I was waiting for you outside Roseacre” Ben added, as his eyes glanced anxiously over to the window. There were clouds forming, the fluffy white getting battered into shapes by the ferocious wind. If Ben squinted he could’ve sworn some looked like hands.

 

“They looked pretty happy” Ben continued, and in a moment of bravery he threw his eyes over to Paul’s locking their gazes. He’d been right, Paul was smiling, but it was softer than the one from the alley, less teasing and cocky and more comforting and encouraging.

 

Ben could hear that voice from the alley chanting take his pinky take his pinky take his pinky but something stopped him, made him freeze in place and beg Paul in his mind to please know I want to, I just don’t know if I can.

 

Thankfully, Paul picks up on his pleading, because his smile slowly slides off his face and is replaced with an expression of pure concern and worry. He leans in slightly, and for a second Ben is terrified he’s going to kiss him.

 

Kissing Paul is the best feeling in the world, but the atmosphere is so charged that Ben thinks he might die if their lips touched, too overwhelmed by emotion for his heart to keep beating.

 

Paul brushes his perfect curls out of his face before almost whispering “whatever you’re wanting Ben, you can have it, it’s okay.”

 

Ben takes in a shuddering breath and closes his eyes, before replying “I know I can have it, but I’m so scared it won’t last.”

 

He had proved to himself he can have this, that a relationship with another boy can happen , but he doesn’t know if it can last . All he knew of gay relationships before were quick hook-ups in alleys and bar bathrooms, of secret looks that lingered too long and ended in disaster.

 

It’s terrifying putting so much effort into something you don’t know if you’ll be allowed to keep.

 

Suddenly, he feels long fingers glide through his hair, and a large, warm palm resting firmly on his right jaw. He opens his eyes to see Paul staring intently at him, almost as if he was looking through Ben’s physical being and into his very soul.

 

“As long as there is breath in my body Ben, this will last”

 

Tears prickle at Ben’s eyes and on instinct, he reaches his hand up to his face to force them back, because boys don’t cry when another boy says something straight of out a romance novel to them.

 

On the way, however, his hand stops, and once more magnetism overcomes the appendage and it flies to Paul’s.

 

Ever so gently, as if any amount of force would shatter the atmosphere around them, Ben’s pinky curls around Paul’s.

 

It’s the best feeling in the world.

 

------------

 

Ben twirled the girl around quickly with the precision of someone who knows how to dance - which he does, seeing as he’d been dancing since before he could even walk - causing her body to slam into him almost painfully. Her right hand flew up to grasp onto his and her left clutched firmly onto his shoulder, fingers digging into the modest amount of muscle there. Ben bent his right knee, snapping his foot into the air and out towards the side, and simultaneously twisted on the ball of his standing foot so his heel was facing outwards, before harshly bringing his right foot down in front of his left, and while keeping on the balls of his feet he twisted so that both heels were facing inwards. The girl mirrored him almost exactly, the exception being that her foot flew to behind her standing one. They repeated their actions with their opposite feet, and quickly began expertly dancing the charleston.

 

As he danced with sweat flying off his brow and a wide grin firm of his lips Ben remembered how it feels to be alive. Bright red blood was pumping hard through his arteries, his lungs were almost sore from how hard they were squeezing air in and out of his body, and the lactic acid drenching his muscles made them burn like fire, only spurring Ben on to move faster to keep the flames alive.

 

In a life where he had to live as someone not himself, dancing had always felt like the only time he was really himself. He didn’t have to wonder if he was walking masculinely enough, if he was staring too long at a fit guy across the street, if he was just being too gay. None of that matters on the dance floor, all that matters is moving your body and having fun.

 

The only thing that could’ve made it better was if he was dancing with Paul, especially tonight. While they both loved coming to the dance hall that night they weren’t there just to dance, they were there to celebrate, to mark a date of the month as there’s .

 

It was their one month anniversary, and they were back where it all began.

 

It’d had been Paul’s idea to come, insisting that one month anniversaries were almost more important than annual ones since you’re still in the honeymoon phase for it. He said his parents had told him all about it, and Ben - being born out of wedlock to parents who, frankly, hated each other - had decided to just go along with the expert (although even if his parents had been married he still thinks he would’ve deferred to Paul’s knowledge, since he found it hard to say no to his boyfriend at the best of times).

 

Feeling the sudden need to see his boyfriend Ben dragged his eyes across the bouncing and twirling bodies populating the hall and they quickly landed on Paul. He was dancing with another girl, slower than Ben and with simpler moves, but he looked happy just the same. His sweat-drenched curls were bouncing, his smile was wide and toothy, and his kinetic body was a sight for Ben to behold.

 

He wondered what it’d be like seeing that sight directly in front of him, even touching Paul as he danced, and his perfect form broke down slightly at the mere thought.

 

“Oy, concentrate!” the girl opposite him cried, stepping a little further back from Ben to compensate for his suddenly clumsy feet. She was different to Paul in almost every way, her hair was straight and bleach-blond - with her forehead littered with remnants of the blistering that accompanied every bleach job - was short, and right now her mouth was curled into a snarl.

 

“Sorry,” Ben shouted over the music, before correcting his stance back into perfection. “What’s your name?” He yelled again, realising he hadn’t asked before she’d whisked him away the second the band started up.

 

“Lola,” she replied, expression turning more neutral as Ben’s dancing returned to its standard excellence. “You’re Ben Mitchell right?”

 

“One and only” Ben grinned. The music came to an end and, like the gentleman Kathy had raised him to be (while in a dance hall, at least), he took her hand and lead her off the dance floor.

 

“Good, I thought you were” Lola replied, voice at a much less ear-splitting level now the band was taking a break. “Look, Ben, I’ve got something I need to ask you”

 

Now that he was off the dance floor and surrounded by people who could listen in on his conversation Ben felt his ‘i am the straightest person ever’ persona take a hold of him, and he found himself saying “oh I’m flattered, truly, but I’m not really looking to date anyone right now sweetheart, trying to keep my options open, you know?” and finishing it with an asshole smirk.

 

He hated himself for saying it, of course, but whatever he had to do to remain in the closet.

 

To Ben’s surprise, Lola just laughed uproariously, even going as far as to support herself with hands to her knees in order to stop herself from falling over. Ben just stood feeling dumbfounded (and maybe just a little bruised ego-wise).

 

“Oh my God, look, you’re an all alright dancer but I’m actually after your mate Jay” she wheezed out between laughs, wiping her eyes of the mirthful tears that had sprung there.

 

“Oh,” Ben replied simply, before crossing his arms defensively, hoping that doing so would distract from his surely rosy cheeks. “Well, why you asking me about him? I’m not his keeper”

 

Lola scoffs a laugh and crosses her own arms, firing another shot at Ben’s ego when he realises she’s far more intimidating than him. “You’re his best mate, I’m sure you’d be able to put a good word in for me”

 

In an attempt to regain his dignity Ben retorts “how do I know you’re good enough for him?” 

 

“Think I proved how much of a catch I am on dance floor mate” she grinned, “don’t you?”

 

And yeah, if Ben was honest with himself then he did have to admit that she was a crazy good dancer. Jay himself had two left feet, always refusing to let Ben teach him because ‘blokes aren’t meant to dance together’, which had been a bit devastating to hear considering the massive crush he used to have on Jay, but thankfully that had long fizzled out.

 

He looked Lola up and down and bit his lip contemplatively, before uncrossing his arms and saying “alright, I’ll do it.”

 

Lola’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling and her lips stretching into a huge smile. “Thanks, I owe you one!” she said, lightly punching Ben’s shoulder amiably.

 

“I’m not promising anything, mind” Ben reminded her, laughing. It was a bit of a lie though, Lola seemed nice and fairly good for Jay, and Ben had a feeling he was going to do everything in his power as Jay’s best friend to get them together.

 

Sensing their conversation was over Ben looked around for Paul, hoping to grab a drink with him during the next song so he could get his breath back. He scanned the hall, but couldn’t spot him in the crowd. Acidic tendrils of worry licked up his gut, but he tried to force them down, telling himself that everything was fine and he’d spot Paul any second.

 

“Oh by the way,” Lola added, smile still bright on her face, “I saw that bloke you came here with leaving while we were speaking.”

 

“Oh?” Ben replied, the tendrils spontaneously grew into vines, reaching his lungs and making them squeeze with anxiety. He desperately tried to take a machete to them, cut them down and allow himself to breathe, but it became glaringly obvious that only the sight of Paul would rid himself of them.

 

“Yeah, think some guys followed him out, friends of yous two’s I guess?” Lola continued, her calm demeanour making it clear how oblivious she was to Ben’s internal turmoil.

 

They came as just the two of them, and Ben hadn’t seen any of his or Paul’s friends about all night, so who the fuck followed Paul? Was it just a coincidence and they happened to be leaving at the same time? Had he stared at Paul for too long and now they knew they were together? Was he going to walk out of the building to Paul unconscious on the ground after getting attacked?

 

What if he was right, and this could never last?

 

Ben didn’t know, but what he did know was that he had to find Paul, now.

 

The vines squeezed tighter.

 

“Oh, uh, I dunno,” Ben replied, voice almost too steady and even as he tried desperately to cover up his worry, “I think I’ll go follow him, he’d got my bus money for the ride home” he lied.

 

“Oh okay,” Lola replied, slightly bewildered at Ben leaving so soon. It was only 10 pm and most teens their age stayed right until closing time. “Well, just remember to speak to Jay for me”

 

“Yeah yeah!” Ben reassured as he made hastily for the exit.

 

He pushed past gyrating body after gyrating body until finally, he made it to the door, shoving it open slightly harder than necessary. Since it was July it was still fairly bright out, blue light covering the street and the buildings resting on it. Frantically Ben scanned the floor for any lumps even resembling a body and felt oddly uncomforted when he didn’t find one. He didn’t want Paul to be hurt, but the longer Ben didn’t know where he was the tighter and more acidic the vines became.

 

He whipped his head side to side, trying to decide which way to go before on instinct he ran in the direction of the alleyway, as in the alleyway.

 

The only place other than the dance floor he’d ever felt truly alive.

 

As he hurtled down the street he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of Paul, for a hand lying lifeless on the ground, for his figure slammed up against the wall by the guys Lola saw, or (and this is the one he desperately hoped he’d find) just Paul standing in the alley waiting for him, everything fine and no danger at all.

 

He slaps a hand on the wall and flings himself around the corner and into the alley. The dance hall’s shadow had completely darkened it, causing Ben to blink his eyes furiously, trying to speed up the process of them adjusting to the difference in lighting. As the alley came into focus he sees a dark figure leaning against the brick, a figure with curly hair wearing the same clothes as Paul.

 

The vines disappear, vanishing in an instant and suddenly Ben can breathe again because there’s his boyfriend, alive and well leaning against the very wall a month ago he’d backed Ben into and kissed silly.

 

He stumbles slightly - the sheer relief of seeing Paul having knocked his sense of balance completely out of whack - and dashed over to Paul before engulfing him in the tightest hug he could physically manage.

 

“Hey,” Paul breathed out into Ben’s left ear. Ben shivered at the feeling and let himself bask in the moment for a few seconds longer.

 

Once he felt sufficiently comforted, he pulled back from Paul and smacked him in the shoulder.

 

“Ow! What was that for?!” Paul yelped, hand coming up to rub at the point of impact.

 

“Why the fuck did you leave?! I got so fucking worried! I thought- I thought something bad had happened to you!” Ben cried, voice probably a little louder than what was acceptable, but fuck it, he was angry with Paul for making him worry so much.

 

(Because it revealed how much Ben cared about Paul, and he was terrified that care would kill him should this thing between them ever end).

 

“What do you mean ‘bad’, I just left the hall thinking you’d understand that I wanted you to follow me here?” Paul explained, eyebrows pinched in confusion, and part of Ben felt bad for being so harsh.

 

“Lola saw a group of guys follow you out, I thought they were going to-to- I don’t know!” Ben shouted. He brought his hands up to the side of his head before slamming them down back to his sides, curled into painful fists. He stepped away and turned around from Paul, suddenly aware of tears sparking in his eyes he did not want anyone, even Paul to see. “I was just scared Paul, okay?”

 

A few moments of silence passed between them before Ben felt a hand hesitantly place itself on his shoulder, lightly pressing back in order to get Ben to turn around. Ben huffed, rolling his wet eyes and crossing his arms before relenting and twisting his body around to face Paul.

 

He expected to see his own anger reflected back at him, for Paul to shout a few curse words at him before storming off, effectively putting an end to Them.

 

Instead, he only saw understanding.

 

“I’m sorry I worried you,” Paul said, hand still firm on Ben’s shoulder, “I didn’t think about how you might worry, but you have to see it’s okay Ben, I’m okay”

 

Tears slid down Ben’s cheeks but he made no effort to wipe them away, only to uncross his arms, fling them around Paul’s waist, and bury his head into the crook of Paul’s neck. He let out a cry when he felt Paul curl his arms around his shoulders, and rest his cheek on top of Ben’s head.

 

(It felt like he was jumping off the cliff again, except instead of flying, he landed into Paul’s comforting embrace).

 

“You fucking scared me” Ben repeated quietly through his tears, because he wasn’t really sure of what to say, just that he needed Paul to never do that again.

 

“I love you,” Paul replied, voice low and husky, and overflowing with warmth and tenderness.

 

Ben pulled back sharply from Paul - although kept his arms tight around him - and stared at him in shock, mind empty save for those three words echoing over and over.

 

“You lo-” Ben choked out, eyes searching Paul’s face for any indication that he was lying, that Ben had misheard him, that this was a dream.

 

“Y-yeah,” Paul replied, nervously looking down before rambling out “and you don’t have to say it back, I just really really wanted you to know, and I-”

 

“I love you too,” Ben whispered, interrupting Paul’s waffling. He looked just as dumbfounded as Ben had been in response, before breaking out into that beautiful fucking smile.

 

“Yeah?” he enquired, tightening one arm around Ben’s shoulders and bringing the other arm up to dig a hand into Ben’s hair.

 

“Yeah” Ben replied, swaying slightly so Paul was off the wall and facing the entrance of the alley while Ben had his back to it.

 

He angled his head up and bumped Paul’s nose with his own, hoping he’d take the hint. With a breathy laugh, Paul moved his hand to Ben’s jaw, pulling him in for possibly one of the sweetest kisses of Ben’s life.

 

“‘Ey lads! I’ve found him!” came a harsh voice from behind Ben, followed by the sickening sound of multiple sets of feet slapping against the pavement, and all coming right for them.

 

Suddenly all of that earlier terror Ben felt came back tenfold, his stomach was filled with curling tendrils, all burning his insides viciously, and his lungs were compressed so heavily that all they could manage were shallow breaths made in rapid succession. He went to whip his head around to see who was coming, if it really was the boys Lola had seen as he feared, but Paul’s hand gripped tight on his jaw.

 

“Ben, run right now and whatever you do, don’t look back,” Paul said, eyes boring into Ben’s with such an intense determination that he’d never seen in his easygoing boyfriend.

 

“What the fuck? I’m not leaving you,” Ben hissed, affronted and frankly flabbergasted by Paul’s request.

 

In response, Paul’s hand only got tighter on his jaw. “They haven’t seen your face, only mine, I’ll be right behind you, Ben please” Paul begged, his eyes suspiciously wet and Ben cursed himself because he really couldn’t say no to this kid.

 

“You’re right behind me, Paul, right fucking behind me!” Ben emphasised, hoping Paul understood the subtext of his words, the crying plea of please don’t leave me, please let this last.

 

“Right there, now go” Paul urged, before shoving Ben in the direction he was to run.

 

Ben took off, going against every instinct he had because Paul had asked him to. He tore through the alley, loose stones going flying under his feet as turned the corner into another one, and another one, and another one until he was certain the guys weren’t on his and Paul’s tail anymore. He didn’t even know where he’d ended up, his only thought being ‘they can’t catch us, they can’t cause us to end.’

 

Panting, Ben slumped against a wall, hands pressing hard onto his knees in order to support himself while he caught his breath. After a while, he straightened up, hand rubbing his chest over his sore, far overworked lungs in an attempt to relieve the pain and turned his head to the side to talk to Paul. He couldn’t hear Paul panting like he was, but he told himself that was just because he was on Ben’s deaf side.

 

“You alright, ba-?” Ben asked, before realising he was talking to air.

 

(Suddenly the wind died down and the skies cleared up above, and Ben hurtled to the ground).

 

“Paul?” Ben shouted into the night. It was dark now, and the main streets were illuminated by orange gas lamps, however, the alley that Ben found himself was almost entirely inky black save for the rare spot dusted by the glow of an open window.

 

With the tendrils weaving together in his stomach, Ben made his way home, reassuring himself Paul was smart and quick and of course he was able to run off. The only reason he didn’t stay behind Ben was that he had to break off for some reason, maybe a tactic to split up their assailants and make them easier to lose.

 

That had to be it, Ben thought as he got into bed alone (his dad was out all night and the next day, so he’d planned to ask Paul to stay over, but it was fine since there was always next time, right?). He’d go over to Paul’s the next day and he would yell at him for not sticking to the plan before kissing him silly for protecting him like no one else ever had before.

 

Because everything was fine because there was still breath in Paul’s body and they were going to last.

------------------

 

The next ten years are a blur for Ben, although with some poignant exceptions.

 

He did go to Paul’s door the next day, but instead of a sheepish smile and an apology he was greeted with a weeping mother dressed in black, and a numb father demanding that he leave.

 

A funeral is held and Ben isn’t invited, because at most he’s “just a friend” and at least just a guy Paul sat next to in a few classes, and that type of relation didn’t mourn, didn’t cry their heart out in the darkness of their room, didn’t feel like their heart was irreparably damaged because its other half was dead .

 

It didn’t matter that he knew how warm Paul’s pinky was when wrapped tightly around Ben’s. It didn’t matter that he knew how Paul scrunched his face up if he couldn’t get a sign right first try. It didn’t matter that knew what Paul tasted like and how caring he was in the afterglow. None of it mattered because no one but them even knew they were together. 

 

None of it mattered because Ben was right, it never ever could’ve lasted.

 

A couple of weeks after the funeral Ben wasn’t allowed to attend Lola had sought him out at his house, furious because she had spoken to Jay who had no idea who she was, let alone that she knew Ben.

 

It’s not like Ben had meant to go back on his promise, it’s just that it’d been difficult to spare a thought towards anything that wasn’t Paul.

 

He’d let her inside numbly, content to let her scream her frustrations in his face because he was home alone, and his dad wasn’t there to tell him to man up, that he couldn’t just let a girl yell at him. Phil was gone and would be until the next day just like that night just like that night just like-

 

After she was done she confusedly noted how tired he looked, voice almost hesitant and maybe even concerned. Ben can’t remember what he remarked back, only that it was hollow and lacked the usual snark he usually interjected into his comebacks. She then remarked about how sad he’d seemed since Paul had died, and Ben isn’t sure he was able to come up with anything to say to that.

 

She looked him up and down then, bit her lip anxiously, and kissed him.

 

It shocked Ben, and he almost pushed her off before she pulled back herself and breathed out “we’re both lonely and tired, maybe we can comfort each other”

 

Ben said nothing back, only taking her up to his room to commit one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

 

Maybe it was partly the grief, or partly the loneliness Lola had been so painfully spot on about, but Ben did know that the voice in his head that had sounded so similar to Phil’s had been a huge reason why. It whispered to him about how he maybe was straight, about how Paul had just been a horrible blunder and he didn’t really like blokes, he’d just been confused, and now he had the perfect opportunity to prove it.

 

But the voice was wrong, of course it was, and Ben woke up the next morning feeling worse than ever.

 

The problem with Paul wasn’t that he was actually straight, it was that his worst fear had been confirmed.

 

Nice things don’t last for Ben, especially not relationships.

 

He hears from chatter at school that Paul had flirted with one of the guys in the group a while ago, but until that night they’d never been able to confirm whether or not he was actually gay. Lola had been right, they’d followed him out hoping to get that proof, and Ben had given it to them on a silver platter.

 

It was all Ben’s fault.

 

Word spread outside the school and into the wider community. Pam and Les moved away to avoid the stares and hushed words of condolences that stopped coming from a place of sympathy and instead of a place of judgement and scrutiny, and with them took the public memory of Paul, now just an empty desk and an incomplete English assignment thrown n the bin rather than on the teacher’s desk.

 

Privately though, his memory lived on in Ben. In the tattered book he’d forgotten to give back, in the corner shop he couldn’t step foot in, and the alley he couldn’t even walk past.

 

A few weeks after that Lola had come up to him to break the news that she was pregnant, and Ben’s life fell apart even more.

 

Unlike his dad, Ben wasn’t a well off businessman who could stay afloat socially despite having a bastard for a son, he was a heartbroken teenager who wasn’t even out of secondary school yet. Unlike his mother, Lola wasn’t an owner of a cafe at the centre of a community with social ties strong enough to weather the storm of being pregnant and single, she too was a scared teenager whose first worry wasn’t if she’d be a good mother, but if her parents would throw her out the second they found out.

 

Soon enough though, the pair were being sat down by their parents and a plan the four had formulated was being explained to their kids. To avoid social suicide they’d drop out of school and marry - since that was possible with parental consent - and move into a flat that Phil would buy them to raise the baby in. Ben would start work at the docks to support his family and Lola would stay home to look after the kid.

 

Ben’s reaction was numb acceptance. Everything had already gone to shit so what’s one more bad thing? Lola gets angry though, pleading with her parents not to do this to her, and screaming at Ben to do something .

 

He couldn’t though, because he’d realised that when he jumped off the cliff he didn’t fly, or land into P- someone’s arms, he’d fallen hard into a deep ravine that he had no chance of climbing out.

 

They do as their parents asked (demanded), dropping out of school the next day and wedding the week after. Then in what feels like no time at all, in their tiny flat which neither of them liked, the kid, thei kid, is born Lexi Mitchell - a name her maternal grandmother hated, which only made Lola love it more.

 

And Ben loves her, because how could he not? She’s perfect in every way and Ben just knows she’ll do great things when she grows up. However, a part of him, a part he buries down deep within himself, vehemently resents her. She’s a reminder of everything that’s changed, a reminder of the night that should’ve been one spent with Paul, a reminder of the last night he ever had with Paul, and a reminder that he will never see Paul again.

 

As she grows up Ben never takes that resentment out on her, however. He makes sure to treat her like a princess, always putting food on her table, teaching her to dance and twirling her about whenever she asks, teaching her sign and using it to tell her he loves her every single night because he wonders what kind of man he’d be if Phil had done the same for him.

 

He copes in other ways which, admittedly, are horrifically unhealthy, but if they keep that ugly resentful side of himself away from Lexi then Ben really doesn’t care about the long term effects they’ll have on him.

 

Every few days after work he’ll visit pubs populated with strangers far away from his neighbourhood. He’ll get almost blindingly drunk, so much so that half the time he blacks out and forgets his night, and he’ll go to that one specific toilet stall, or that one specific alleyway, seeking out dark curls and a smile and allow other men to help him forget his sorry life.

 

Lola knows what he does, because how couldn’t she. She’s the one who sees him wincing as he sits down for breakfast, she’s the one who has to find him the painkillers when his hangover headache is so bad he can’t get out of bed, she’s the one who has to deal with him coming in drunk out of his mind in the wee hours of the morning, more often than not sending him away to sleep it off at Jay’s or his dad’s house because she was not about to let some pished knobhead sleep under the same roof as her kid.

 

Lexi is always her kid when Ben comes in like that, which honestly Ben can’t argue with.

 

One thing he’s grateful for is that while Lola never explicitly confirms her support of him, she never attacks him for his obvious sexuality. She alludes to it, sometimes asking the morning after if “whoever was a little too rough,” or joking during a night of drinking together that she’ll never have to worry about another woman .

 

Ben is eternally grateful to her for that because instead of having to be a husband at all times she allowed him to just be her friend once they were behind closed doors, and she was a fantastic friend to have (and maybe Ben finally getting her and Jay together helped just a bit).

 

They go on like that for 3 years until world war 2 finally kicks off. Everyone knew it was coming, Ben was even one of the workers assigned to the inter-war task of reconstructing the Royal Victoria Dock, but it was still scary all the same. Once the radio officially announced it something changed within the community. Fear had gripped hold, and it was up to each individual to figure out what course of action would be best for them.

 

Ben and Lola figured out what the best for their little family looked like during a hushed conversation hours after Lexi had gone to bed. They weren’t in any immediate danger financially, but it was obvious a soldiers pay was better than the irregular scraps Ben was paid. So the next morning he kissed Lexi’s cheek, gave Lola a solid hug, and marched off in the direction of the nearest registrary office.

 

He waited in line for three hours, got his way through the frankly hasty medical exam - he’s pretty sure the doctor clocked his hearing, but after a moment of hesitation the man gave him the all-clear, obviously more concerned with getting recruitment numbers as high as possible - made his solemn promise to do his duty, and suddenly he was a soldier in the second world war.

 

He was shipped out to training camp a few weeks later, and then after months of hard training, he was sent out to his first real battle. It broke his heart to leave little Lexi, who sobbed hard both times he had to leave. Lola was surprising emotional about it too, giving him a fierce hug and demanding that he made it through the war and back to his daughter. He hugged her back just as tight, and whispered in her ear “I promise.”

 

He shook Jay’s hand tightly before he walked out the door, whispering “look after our girls,” and leaving before he could cry.

 

For the next five years, he worked hard to be a good soldier, surviving battle after battle with the only motivation being to make it home to his daughter, to make good on his promise to Lola. He made friends, was (mostly) pleasant towards the people he came across, but ultimately he wasn’t looking for any connections. They were way too risky in the army and way too much of a distraction.

 

That being, until he met the doctor.

 

And Ben took another leap of faith.

Notes:

I know this subject matter is serious, so if I've done it badly or some bits need changed please tell me whether by comment or tumblr ask or dm!!

I hope you enjoyed reading! I really wanted to delve into Ben's backstory because it's important in understanding why he reacts the way he does in later chapters, plus I thought it could be interesting applying Ben and Paul's canonical love story to the context of this fic. Also so sorry to keep you on a cliffhanger with the kiss last chapter jdskhkh but dw next chapter is basically written in my head so it'll be out in like two weeks time :)

I'm @/bisexualballum on Tumblr so come say hi if you want!

Chapter 4: Update

Hi so, it has definitely been longer than 2 weeks lol.

Basically, I went to med school, and (shockingly) it was a lot harder than I thought it'd be! I sacrificed a lot of hobbies, including watching and writing for ee to try and keep up with the workload, but I just got unhappy which made things worse. Pretty counterintuitive basically lmao.

I'm trying to get back into things that made me happy before my next semester starts because I know I'll perform better academically and mentally, so I'm going to be continuing this fic (and finishing it!!) this new year.

So yeah, I'm so sorry I abandoned this for so long, but I wasn't lying in my last author's notes the next chapter is basically written so I WILL be updating before the middle of January.

I hate when author's upload chapters that are basically just huge author's notes but I wanted to do something to hold myself accountable, as it'd be pretty shit if I didn't upload after this😅

Thank you everyone who ever clicked on this fic and to anyone that still cares about it, and especially thank you and sorry to Joe on tumblr @/eastendies who this whole thing is a gift for :")

Notes:

I'm bisexualballum on Tumblr so come say hi if you want!