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I.
There was a loud bang outside the window. They were under bombardment.
Will sprinted naked from his bed, his voice an alert shot, a cry for cover that died when his surroundings took shape.
He was standing, confused and bare in the middle of the room, staring at a blearly-eyed and seemingly equally confused Kim who was half-awake in the bedding.
“I thought I heard something,” Will lied, though was it really a lie? He moved back to the bed, a forced laugh on his lips.
II.
The explosion was close by, so much so that Will could feel the blowback against his neck.
He was stock upright before he knew it, his legs moving to spring forward and run to safety, his throat already raw, like he had been screaming for hours.
It wasn’t until his feet hit wood, not mud, and a hand reached out to anchor him that his eyes began to focus. A darkened room but a room nonetheless, not a field. His room—familiar shapes began to bleed through his vision. And the feel of the hand gripping his shoulder, the smell of expensive cologne and sweat so very familiar that it was like an instant balm to the senses.
“Will!” His name, he knew his name. Knew that voice. Knew the edge to it that seemed to indicate it had been saying that for quite some time.
He realized he was gripping the sheet between fingers that were growing numb, but couldn’t bring himself to let it go. He breathed heavily, sucking in air that was not full of gunpowder.
He turned after a few steadying moments to find Kim staring at him wide-eyed, disheveled from sleep and quite clearly concerned. He was pale and lovely in the low city light filtering into the bookshop windows, and Will’s heart was very, very tight.
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he said, running a hand through his hair. It was damp with sweat. He bit his lip. He turned and wrapped Kim in his arms, burrowing down into the bedding, trying to will his mind into blankness.
III.
The mud was drowning him. He was going to die in this field, swallowed whole, and no one would ever find a trace of him.
He opened his mouth to scream, to make it known where he was, as futile as it to think about being heard by anyone out here, the muffled sounds filling his ears, pressing against his brain…
A hand on his shoulder seemed to drag him back into the air and he gasped, his lungs burning with the welcome introduction of oxygen.
His surroundings quickly came into focus, his alert senses attempting to detect danger. Yet he quickly found himself confused by his surroundings. He was lying not in a pool of mud and blood, but on silk sheets. The darkness was not caused by bombardment that blotted out the sun, but by the completely ordinary night light outside the window. He was not sodden through with anything more than sweat. And he was not alone.
“Hey,” Kim said, his voice low and strained in a way that went straight to Will’s heart. He turned his head towards him, but the look of worry in Kim’s dark eyes was so great that he looked quickly away, focusing instead on the open door of Kim’s washroom.
“Sorry,” Will said, as if that was enough. His throat felt shredded, a familiar pain. He couldn’t begin to picture what Kim had just witnessed.
“What?” Kim responded. He was still holding onto Will and his slender fingers dug into Will’s bare shoulder. “You were screaming. I had such a fright. You don’t need to apologize.”
Will was still staring at the door. He felt stripped bare, exposed and vulnerable in a way his nudity, the intimacy of the acts they had engaged in hours ago, had never threatened. Previously cold all over, his skin now flushed. He needed to collect himself. He could not bring himself to see that look in Kim’s eyes once more.
“It was a nightmare.” His mouth felt dry. The words felt odd, as if what he had just experienced could not possibly be summed up so simply.
Kim was silent. Will could almost feel his unspoken words in the air between them. His heart was still pounding and he had no idea what he would say were Kim to break that silence, but his lover seemed to realize that. He leaned in to nuzzle Will's neck, the gesture comforting rather than sensual. It was like a blow to the chest.
He didn’t know how he could handle this. He reached up and covered Kim’s hand with one of his own and laid back down, pulling him with him, still staring at that anchor point of the door.
IV.
Alfie was smiling at him. Alfie was indicating somewhere over his shoulder, a place where they could steal a moment or two together, before the next push. The air was silent and clear and yet Will tasted blood in his mouth and when Alfie next turned to him half of his head was just gone.
“Fuck!” This time when he awoke the room took shape quickly. He was back in London. His legs struggled in the bedding and he was kicking at Kim and trembling beyond control.
Kim’s limbs were long and lean but he was alert and soon enough wrapped around Will’s body, holding him with a strength that Will was surprised he had. He supposed he should no longer be surprised by such things; Kim was steel where it counted.
“It’s okay,” Kim muttered against his skin and Will pulled back to speak, to explain that this was nothing, but his chest was tight and he could not speak. When his face left Kim’s shoulder it felt wet with what his hand confirmed as tears.
Kim’s hand wound into his hair, pulling him back down, holding him close. They lay in silence for several moments, Will attempting to match Kim’s breathing, to take comfort in the quiet of the bookshop around them, in the feeling of Kim’s warmth and strength, the way he was offering himself without complaint.
After some time Will shuddered and pulled back, but Kim held on. Will looked away then, trying to find somewhere else to focus while Kim kissed his cheek, his drying tears, and that was it.
“I don’t think about him often. I didn’t love him.” He felt the need to explain it like this; he did not know why. They both had pasts and the bit of Kim’s that he knew were far more colorful than his own. He wasn’t even certain Kim knew what he was talking about, but now that he had opened his mouth the words just spilled out, like the breaking of a dam.
“I didn’t see him die, I just heard of it. I had been with him the night before and then he was dead and I never saw his body. And it had only been a week but he was sweet and young and it was…nice. You stole what time you could out there, you know?”
And Kim nodded even though he could not possibly know what Will was speaking of, but it was a comfort all the same. Will’s throat was very, very tight, but he still held his gaze.
“You can talk to me about this,” Kim said, his voice low and even, his eyes drilling into Will’s. “About him. About all of it. I’m here.”
Will licked his suddenly dry lips and nodded, though his head was still swimming. He focused on Kim’s eyes, on that steady and non-judgmental look, at the silence and comfort surrounding him. This was the here and now and his future. He could do this. He had to do this.
The unspooling of his thoughts of Alfie had left behind a dull ache that somehow felt good, like a bullet being dug from a wound. He shifted, grasping Kim’s hip to hold him tight, to anchor himself.
“Okay.”
V.
The scream was different this time. It was sharp and familiar and he did not like it.
His eyes snapped open at once. He knew where he was, his own mind having been a blank just moments before. If there was .any danger it was in the present, not some muddy Flanders field, and he needed to have his wits about him if he wanted to use the Messer successfully.
But Kim’s bedroom was empty of anyone besides him and his lover, who was currently curled in on himself, pallid in the purple satin sheets, screaming in broken sobs that slashed at Will’s heart.
He reached out to pull him close, his mind clouded with uncertainty, unused to this. He had woken countless times to fearful worry in Kim’s gaze, but never before had he considered the reverse.
This was not just a nightmare. Kim’s body was trembling in his tight grip, fit to shake apart, and all Will could think of was the scars on his arms.
“Kim?” He gasped the name out loud. Kim’s head shot up, his eyes cleared and he returned to Will from wherever it was he had gotten lost.
“ Will .” The name was spoken with such relief that Will had to force a lump down his throat. Kim was still trembling slightly, curled into Will’s chest defensively, his eyes bright with tears.
“What was it?” Perhaps he should not ask. Kim had never pried like this, had allowed Will his pride until he realized himself there was no need for it, that he could bare himself to Kim and not be sneered at as weak.
But they were not the same, and Will’s hands shook with the desire to protect.
Kim didn’t appear put out, though he shook his head and his shoulders betrayed his heavy breathing. “It was nothing. Nothing new. I had…you know I’ve had bad encounters, yes?”
The words were simple and cold and wrapped around Will’s heart, strangling until it felt like physical pain. “You...” He thought of the shame Kim radiated in their first encounters and felt sick. “No details. You didn’t…you don’t have to.” You can do this, Darling.
Kim smiled sadly. “There’s nothing you can do now. It’s in the past. I’m sorry to wake you.”
“Don’t.” That much he could do. “Speak to me.”
Kim bowed his head but his lips turned up, the mark of a bitter smile. “Just please hold me.”
The words were soft and even, raw with need. Will forced down the need to attack a villain who was not even there, and allowed Kim the sanctuary of his embrace.