Damaged Love

"Nah, I think letters would be a good idea! You could send Polaroids and everything," he suggested eagerly, a wide smile growing on his lips. It was one personality trait that often got him in trouble; his intense optimism and eagerness for plans. Once he got something in his head, he wanted to complete it - hence how he raised money for California.

"What are they like? Your friends, I mean?" He questioned as he ran his hands along a few pussywillows that grew on the edge of a part of their road. Snatching one, he fiddled with it by running his fingers along it to watch the seeds fall to the ground. "I mean, they're probably not farmers but that doesn't mean they wouldn't like pictures of the cows, right?"
 
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"No, they're both from cities-- they're real nice, Bobby. Doesn't mean I think I should contact them; they'd just want t visit and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that. They're like you; they worry and fret about me and... it's nice to have people that care, but it just reminds me that I'm not... myself, and that makes me feel worse," he shrugged, happy to be pushing the wheelchair in that moment, being able to freely frown and not be picked up on it.

"...Frazier's nice, he worked at his father's clothing company in Washington-- Charlie was the one I was closest to, I suppose. He was at college or something, I think he said he worked at a hotel on weekends-- I... can't remember, really, but he's sweet. He saved me from dying so... I'm sure you'd like him for that reason alone."
 
"Frazier and Charlie," he repeated, resting how the names felt on his tongue. Tapping a finger to his lips in contemplation, he decided to instead close his eyes with a smile as he imagined a proper day with the strangers. He eventually opened an eye, yawning as he took in George.

"Well, they seem delightful and I think you should send a letter," he declared, waving to a cow as it grazed along the fence along his parents' property. "People will always worry about you because people will always care about you. It's jusr how life works, y'know? I've worried about you since the moment I knew what worries meant, you're so sweet, you know? You're like a small kitten I want to protect. I mean, you could easily beat someone up without breaking a sweat now but I still feel the need to make sure you're safe."
 
He wasn't sure whether being called a 'small kitten' was something he should take as a compliment or be offended by - he had gone to war and come back stronger than when he left, despite his disability. Being compared to some small kitten was hardly a testament to that newfound strength, but he chose not to mention anything more on it; his initial response was to smile at the remark, so he wisely chose not to think about it too deeply - Bobby would never say anything to hurt him, after all, not intentionally, at least.

"I... could you send a letter on my behalf, if you're so insistent on it. I... suppose I'd like to see Charlie; he always said he liked the idea of being in the country. I, uh-- maybe I could invite him here before we left," he murmured slowly, forcing the nervousness from his voice. "I-I'm not entirely sure it'd help me, I'll just ruin the friendship by panicking and scaring him off-- he's tough and... not like me. He's a good soldier."
 
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"Oh, hush. Even if you weren't a good soldier, you served your country and you were braver than most people in this town. You were braver than me," he reminded quietly, his eyes drifting as he held his smile. Despite the fact that he was physically unable to fight, he still felt as if he was weak and he somehow let his country down. He said nothing, preferring to simply grip the boxes of food tightly.

"Yeah, sure! I'll send the letter, you just gotta tell me what to write," Bobby quickly added, preferring to keep attention to just how disappointed he felt. Resting his head on his hand, he sighed deeply. "I just want to get out of this tired town. I wish I could have gone to Europe with you - under different circumstances, of course. I saw a picture of the Eiffel tower in the local paper recently, imagine kissing on top of it. I mean, maybe I'm just cheesy but I think it would be romantic."
 
Not particularly up for a debate on who was braver, knowing there would never be a solid agreement on the question, George merely smiled as he headed into his home with Bobby, thankful that his parents didn't seem to be around. He didn't know where they had gone though he was too happy to think about it too much, not wanting his mother to fuss when she saw how stressed he was. He wanted to sit out on the patio with a cold beer and forget about the town and the incident in the diner, only really able to relax once achieving that.

"...I'm not sure sending them letters is the right thing to do, Bobby. I'll invite them if you want, I just-- it's a big thing for me, to bring them into my personal life. I, I just-- we can invite Charlie, at least, if you're certain it'll be a good thing for me. You know me better than I know myself, so I trust you."
 
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"I really think it would be good for you," urged Bobby genuinely, quietly thanking the other for the beer as he popped it open flawlessly. The damn stuff always made his occasional migraines worse and he knew it wasn't good for him but he wanted to seem cool and rugged like a proper man should. Slumping back in his chair a bit, he once again took in the field and scanned the horizon to eye the outline the mountains off in the distance.

"Even if it's just letters, it's good to stay in contact. This Charlie boy is your friend, right? Don't you want to speak with your friend? I dunno - I can't tell you what to do, right? I just think it would be good for you," he explained before rolling up closer to the other, a brief moment of selfish disappointment that he couldn't hold his boyfriend's hand anymore when he drank. He didn't let it show and instead rested a hand on George's thigh. "I just want what's best for you, yeah? I also want to meet the fella who saved the love of my life. I don't know what I would have done if that was the case."
 
"You won't like him, I can tell you that for nothin'. He's a friend, we were together fighting and living since '43. He saved me a fair few times, would stick up for me when other soldiers got a lil' rowdy and triggered my headaches. He's a good man is Charlie-- don't mean you two will get on. You'll clash with him for sure," the man smiled, the thought of it almost amusing him given he seemed to already predict what was ahead. He wasn't particularly pleased about the idea of the love of his life clashing with a good friend of his, but the thought that he could be smug about being correct about it was something to look forward to.

"Maybe I'm wrong; maybe you'll like someone like Charlie and you two will get along like a house on fire. I'd like that. Just can't see it happenin'. He's loud and brash and cool, I suppose. A lot like you, which is why you'll clash. You're too similar to him."
 
"Oi, I'm not loud!" He countered in feigned upset, huffing. "I think it'll be fine, sweetheart. It'll be nice to have a new friend around, even if this guy is just like me. Look, I ain't rushing anything, George, I just think it would be nice to properly thank one of the men who saved my baby's life," he purred affectionately before reaching for the beer, taking a small sip.

"We could always meet up with him in California, once we move out there?" He suggested with pursed lips. "I know that's a bit of a stressful idea but I'm just putting it out into the air," he reminded, moving to roll a bit closer.
 
"...Maybe. I guess it might be nice to do that, just-- send the letter, see if he even wants to see me. He might have hated me for all I know. He might have just been doing his duty in saving me, without feeling motivated to do so because we're friends. He might have been being kind and... I don't know, being my friend because he felt sorry for me. I was pathetic at war, really terrible. I'm too nervous for it," he smiled lightly, licking the beer from his lips and locking his eyes on the farmland, the sight of the familiar cows roaming the fields being the normality he needed to keep his darker thoughts at bay. He could quite have easily started to babble about the various thoughts he had had whilst at war about taking his own life; he could have let slip that he had penned a suicide note, albeit one he promptly destroyed once realising what he had done. Those were probably things he ought to confess to the person he saw as a soulmate, but admitting it to himself hurt, let alone having to admit it to someone else. Instead, he liked to block it out, and having the quietness of the farm and how peaceful it made him feel was vital to achieve that.

"California will be good though. As stressful as it is thinking ahead, I... do want to go. The sun will be nice and hearing the sea will be good too, for sure. And my parents can visit. I know my mom misses being near the sea, she'll love it once she gets over us going-- assuming she actually accepts us dating. I'm sure she will, my mom's... usually understanding. It's your folks I'm most worried about."
 
"I'm not going to tell them," he replied simply, his own eyes closing as he enjoyed the gentle breeze. "Why would I? They dont care where I go, they just care that I stay on the farm and help even though I can't live up to their standards. They'll be mad and curse my name but who cares? They've got two other kids to take my place. It really ain't a big deal. The only thing I'll miss is the farm and even that has some bad memories to it. If they find out about us, I want it to be when we're in California so I don't have to hear my father ramble on how I'm some sissy or somethin' like that. I know for certain he'll say that I somehow corrupted you and that I manipulated you in your fragile state, blah blah blah. My father isn't very hard to read and you know that."

As Bobby spoke, his peaceful smile twisted to a grimace at the thought. He had learned to expect the worst from his family, hence why he clung to George's so often. They showed more love and care for him than any of his own family members, which was a sad thing to admit. Taking a sip of his drink, he exhaled deeply before letting his eyes drift.

"I'll miss your parents too, yeah. They can visit, if they want - I know for a fact they'll want to see you. They love you, you're their cute baby boy. You've still got a baby face even after all of that muscle," he teased with a smile, desperate to keep the thoughts of bitterness at bay.
 
"My mom will, I'm certain of that. Not so sure about my dad, he's said some stuff that makes me think he won't be too pleased, but-- I want 'em to know before we leave, I can't just rush off and not explain why I'm going," he decided with a surprisingly certain smile, determined not to back down from the decision however scared he was that he would be cutting off his family ties in the process. However, if he had to face losing his family, he would do it easily if it meant being able to be with Bobby properly. He didn't doubt that they'd have to deal with issues once in California, but it was at least a place they could be together without as much risk as staying home would bring.

"...Don't overthink it, okay? Your father's an asshole, Bobby. I'm not one to be too cruel but the man makes my blood boil," he replied with a snort, sticking a cigarette between his lips and managing to light it without any help. As small as it was, it made him feel just a little better, and that was invaluable to him at the moment. "I'd be glad not to hear from him ever again. And if my dad is disapproving of us, he can piss off too. I ain't dealing with anyone who thinks it's alright to belittle what we have, alright? I... I have no doubt that I'd be... in a far worse condition if I didn't have you."
 
"I love you, you know that?" He replied almost instantly as he watched clouds begin to roll in. "I mean, shit. You of all people telling me not to overthink things? That's hilarious. Look, you've bedn through more than I could even imagine, George, I don't want you to have to worry about anything for a little while. You did enough work for the both of us, after all." He urged with an encouraging smile before leaning up in his chair to offer a kiss on the cheek.

"I don't know what I would do with you, either. I know my father would probably call me a weakling if he knew how much I've gone head over hills for the farmer boy next door," he drawled with a smile as he took in his boyfriend, still in shock of just how much the other had changed, both physically and mentally. "We should head inside, I can feel a storm approaching."
 
"I'm fine out here for a while, Bobby. I like storms, they usually calm me. I like the rain, I guess," he began with a small smile, eyeing the dark, looming clouds above them in satisfaction, deciding there and then that there was nothing he wanted more than to finish his beer as the rain came down - it was the sort of calming moment he felt he needed to reset his mind, at least for a little while. Any desire he had to complete that fell apart when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his mother appear at the patio door, her eyes drifting down to the held hands which, naturally, jolted apart just a second later.

If she had noticed it -which was almost completely impossible not to-, she didn't let on that she had. Instead, Calliope smiled and edged forward, adjusting her son's coat over his shoulders in her typically motherly fashion and then doing the same for Bobby with a hum under her breath. In the years that her actual son had been at war, she inevitably gravitated to Bobby to fill that void, having invited him over for dinners constantly just to have an excuse to be around him. She had always liked Bobby but it was inevitable that, in George's absence, she would grow close to him.

"You are staying for dinner now, aren't you, Bobby? Walter's made some honey-glazed ham, some nice roast potatoes, buttered vegetables... It'll be nice, the four of us. Walter always makes too much food anyway, it'd be a shame to see it go to waste," she smiled once stepping back from the two not wanting to be told she was overstepping a boundary and being too fussy. "How about it, hm? Maybe you could sleep over here again tonight? I know George appreciate that, having a friend stay over and keeping him company."
 
"I appreciate it, ma'am," Bobby replied obediently with an accompanied smile. After all, the woman was a good replacement for a mother in his eyes as compared to his own horrible mother. Taking a glance to George, he offered a firm nod in response at the offer. Not only was he taught to always accept an invitation but he also knew that the couple could make excellent food, while his own mother was an incredibly talented baker. Despite having a horrid home life, it was nice to be able to go to one house to the other for a good night of food.

"Of course, I'd love to stay another night. Your home is always so welcoming and warm, after all - I could do some work for y'all if you'd like," he urged with his charming smile before he took a sip of his beer. "I mean, you have been such a welcoming presence, ma'am. I think it's the least I could do, yeah?"
 
"Oh, you don't need to offer help like that! I've known you since you were a young boy, Bobby. You're family to us, I can't imagine my life without seeing you rush around here to be with George, hm? So no need to thank me; you've had plenty of hot meals here and I imagine I'll still be cooking them for you when I'm all old and grey; it'd be my pleasure," the woman beamed, her Greek accent often slipping a little and making way for a slight American twang; a fact that made George grin to himself as he eased himself from the chair and trailed inside, deciding that he could forget about the storm if the food was ready and waiting for him.

"Now, you boys can't both share George's tiny bedroom; it must be awfully uncomfortable on the floor for one of you," she began as she ushered them to sit at the small table in the kitchen, returning to the food still cooking on the stove. "Walter's gone out to find a mattress, we figured that if you're going to be sleeping over a lot, to help George ease back into life here, you ought to be comfortable, Bobby. Walter says it's no trouble; it was his idea, you know. He can be pretty thoughtful sometimes."
 
"Oh, ma'am, that's not necessary!" Bobby urged, immediately feeling guilty at the announcement. He already felt like he took up space on account of his disability so to hear the family had gone out of their way to buy him a mattress, especially when he would (hopefully) only be using it for a month? It made his heart immediately ache. He smiled nonetheless, albeit unable to hide the guilt behind it.

"I... god, thank you, Calliope. You treat me like one of your own, I couldn't ask for better neighbors - better friends," he insisted, his cheeks rosy as he offered a nervous laugh. "You really didn't need to do that, ma'am. Gosh - at least let me give you the money for it?" He pleaded.
 
"Now, money's tight; my Walter wouldn't go ahead and suggest this if he wasn't so sure he could get one for a decent price, Bobby. My husband's considerate but he's also tight when it comes to money. He won't be spending too much so don't go expecting a luxury mattress now. But it ought to be better than that floor is for you," she tutted with a wide smile over her shoulder at the two men, shaking her head at their surprise. She had no idea of their plans, nor that the mattress itself was useless when the two shared a single bed together whenever they could. "Now no more talk of paying us back, it really isn't necessary. We'll have that mattress set up tonight, fetch some nice blankets for you; it's the least you deserve."

"...No point in arguing, Bobby. She's made her mind up," smiled George as he awkwardly played with the end of his sleeve, the guilt hitting him like a train. His mother had it in her head that they would have nights like these for the foreseeable future; for decades, in fact. Knowing that they would have to tell her within the month that they were leaving was hardly going to be easy, especially know he had to sit and see his mother look so happy. "My father-- he just wants to help you. It's probably best to let him get on with it."
 
"I feel like I practically live here now," Bobby teased with a snort as he eased back in his chair, his lips pursing. He was going to pay for at least some of the mattress whether the couple wanted it or not. He was stubborn, after all, even when it involved something as simple as a mattress.

"Now I can assure you that I'll pay you back somehow, ma'am," he firmly insisted, his eyes proving just hpw serious he felt as he cracked his back leaning forward. "It's the least I can do for you all being so accommodating and caring for me. Not even my parents care this much about me," he admitted with a laugh.
 
"You ain't paying us back for it, I won't have another word said on the matter, son. Don't you go worrying about that, you hear? Let's just call it a gift for you being such a rock for Cali over the years when the boy was away at war; don't think she'd have coped as well if it wasn't for you popping around and keeping her company. I respect that, I'm grateful, so... no need to pay us back for the mattress, really ain't a big deal," interjected Walter as the man wandered into the kitchen and, with a faint groan, moved to undo his laces on his heavy work boots, only pausing to offer his wife a loving kiss.

Walter was like most men in the small village. He had worked his entire life on the farm and, in his spare time, he liked nothing more than to down a few beers and talk about 'guy' stuff. He was tall and stocky, hardened from years of labour on the farm, much like George's father. The only difference was that Walter wasn't hard on his son, nor was he someone who actively engaged in judgements and stereotypical attitudes. He was a man of his time, but he was at least a tad more open with his views than other men were, which he owed to his wife being as caring as she was.

"...Now, what were you boys doing out in the town today? Old Billy who works at the butchers said he saw you two at the post office when he was getting stamps; said he saw you both with tickets," he murmured slowly, a thick brow arched as he let his smile fade a tad. "I ain't angry, I just wanna know where you two are planning on going all of a sudden, is all. Billy's a drunk, he's probably mistaken, but... well, I know you boys were in the town today, so I thought I'd ask, y'know?"
 
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