Archive of Our Own

Callum furiously tapped his pen on the table, hoping that it would cause the stationary to spring to life and start writing on its own. It was getting ridiculous now, the blankness of the paper mocking him, baiting him to tarnish it with ink.

This was the second day he’d tried to write his wedding vows. Whitney had proudly exclaimed that she had finished her ones by lunchtime yesterday and had asked him how he was getting on. He couldn’t even lie; she wanted them both to share the words they’d chosen. He had to meekly admit that he hadn’t started yet. At one point, he thought of just searching marriage vows on the internet, but he couldn’t risk his plagiarism being found out.

She was furious, complaining that he couldn’t put aside a few moments to write sentiments that would be said in front of all their friends and family. That wasn’t the case at all. He’d been staring at the notepad all day, willing the words to come. All he could put down was the name ‘Whitney’.

All this had happened twenty-four hours ago now, and he still hadn’t got any further. The constant nagging by text from his fianceé didn’t help matters either. She still thought he was being a ‘typical man’ and just procrastinating the task. He didn’t correct her on this. That was a better conclusion than the real one; he just couldn’t think of anything to write about her.

That wasn’t totally true. The love he had for Whitney was real. He liked spending time with her, and she was always so positive, and she took care of him. He’d been to weddings though, and those weren’t the sort of things that made up marriage vows. They were words that were from the heart.

One place he didn’t want to look for words was in his own heart. That wouldn’t help him with this process, of that he was certain. He’s locked it up for now, trapping any escaping thoughts and desires. He could hear them knocking loudly though at times, calling at him to let them free.

After hours of sitting in the flat, he decided to go for a walk to clear his head. He took his notepad along with him in the hopes that some thought would run through his head. Settling with a cup of tea in the caff, he continued to stare down at the paper.

“Now that looks like a man with a lot on his mind, but little on the paper,” Mitch called out from the table beside him.

“I’m writing my vows for my wedding,” Callum replied honestly. He was thankful for the interruption.

“That’s coming up soon, eh?” the older man said, shaking his head. “You want to be enjoying your last moments of freedom, not sitting in here wallowing over a bit of paper.”

“Whitney wants to see them tonight,” he replied. “Any advice?”

Mitch sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “My advice would be to tell her you want to wait till the wedding! That the words are so meaningful to you that you want to see her reaction at the aisle. Gives you a few more weeks of breathing time there, brother!”

Callum smiled back at the man in thanks, but he knew the advice wouldn’t help him at all. Whitney was insistent that she wanted to see the vows and Callum didn’t think she would be put off so easily. He also thought that putting it off wasn’t going to get the job done either. There wouldn’t be some magical paragraph that suddenly appeared in his head two weeks from now. Lying probably wasn’t the best idea either, the ones he had already told were baring heavy on his soul.

Callum uncapped the pen and started going over the letters in Whitney’s name, hoping that inspiration would find him.

“You worried you’re gonna forget her name?” Stuart said with half a laugh, as he sat down at the table.

“I’m just writing my vows,” he explained, hoping his brother would leave him to it.

“Don’t the vicar do that for you?” he asked, sipping on his tea. “You just gotta repeat it back don’t you?”

“No, Whit wants us to write our own,” Callum replied. “Loads of people do it now. I don’t have to memorise it or anything.”

“Oh, well that’s an easy task then, ain’t it?” Stuart replied, as if trying to convince Callum of its effortlessness. “You just gotta write about how she’s your whole world and the best thing that’s ever happened to you. How you want to spend your whole life with her, start a little family and all that. That’s what you want, innit?

Callum nodded quickly. His day was bad enough without Stuart trying to delve into his mind again. Thankfully, his brother didn’t stay too long and he was left alone with just his thoughts. The café didn’t seem to be doing anything to inspire him. Checking his watch, he picked up his notebook and left.

Feeling like something stronger than tea, Callum sat himself down on a stool at the bar of The Queen Victoria. “Pint is it, Halfway?” Mick asked as he strolled towards him.

“Whiskey please, Mick,” he answered, hoping that the spirit coursing through his veins would pry out the right words.

The landlord checked his watch quickly, before pouring the amber liquid out. “I’d ask if someone’d died if that weren’t your game anyway,” he responded, putting the glass down on the bar.

“I’m trying to write my vows,” he admitted again, though by now he wasn’t confident on receiving help. “Any words of wisdom?”

The landlord gave a long exhale of air. “Me and Linda known each other forever by the time we was married. After four kids there ain’t much we more we could say to each other that we hadn’t already said,” Mick replied unhelpfully, leaning against the bar.

“What if you’d got married when you was young?” Callum enquired. “A year or two after you met?”

Mick looked almost wistful at the memory. “I tell you what Halfway, she was something else. I mean she still is, don’t get me wrong. Whenever I walked into a room, me eyes got pulled to her. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted. A right sort, she was! It felt like my heart was gonna punch its way out my chest whenever I thought of her. Couldn’t keep our hands off each other either. You don’t want to be putting that in your vows though!”

“Thanks Mick,” he replied, though it hadn’t helped at all. As the landlord made his way down the bar to serve a customer, Callum downed his drink and left the pub. It had led him back to here, the funeral parlour.

Jay was out at a cremation, so he just sat at the desk, hoping that something would appear on the page. It continued to taunt him, the name of his fiancée screaming out in harsh, dark letters. It became louder in his head, before finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He picked up the notepad and hurled it towards the door, the item just missing Ben’s nose by a few inches.

Eyes wide, Ben opened his mouth to speak, but Callum wasn’t in the mood for any witty retorts at the minute. “Don’t. Just don’t!” he warned, before the other man could utter a word.

Ben held his hands up in submission, and picked up the notepad, glancing down at the open page. He casually threw it back on the desk, before taking a seat opposite Callum, folding his hands in his lap, a smirk on his lips.

Being under Ben’s gaze became unbearable after just a few seconds. It was almost like a focused laser beam, making Callum feel stripped bare emotionally, knowing thoughts were whirl winding around Ben’s head. “I’m writing my vows,” he admitted quietly.

Ben shuffled in his seat slightly and nodded his head towards the notepad. “It’s going well then. You’ve got her named spelled correctly at least.”

“Jay’s not here,” Callum stated. He didn’t need Ben around now. For multiple reasons, it wasn’t going to help him write.

“I wasn’t looking for Jay, actually,” he confessed with a smile. “I needed your assistance, and apparently you need mine. Seems like we can give each other a helping hand!”

“I don’t need you, Ben,” Callum responded. “I just need help to get started.”

“Well, I can do that. Then I can help you write your vows,” Ben replied with a wink.

“Can you just go, please?” he pleaded, his eyes mellowing a little when he noticed the cuts still not healed on Ben’s face. He still hadn’t found out what had happened there.

“How about this?” Ben said, sitting back and now Callum was certain he wasn’t going anywhere. ‘My Dearest Whitney. Ever since we met, I’ve loved you faithfully and with all my heart, apart from that one time Ben and me jerked each other off in the park.’.

“Will you stop?” Callum ordered, rubbing his hands down his face. He didn’t need the image of that night placed so vividly in his head, especially with Ben sitting right across from him in touching distance.

“No, you’re quite right, that one might not go down so well with the vicar,” he replied, nodding in mock agreement. “Speaking of going down-“

“What did you want?” Callum asked, needing to change the conversation. “You said you wanted my help; what for?”

Ben reached around into his pocket and threw a heavy item onto the desk. Callum thought his eyes were deceiving him at first, but there was no mistaking the gun in front of him.

“What the hell is that?” he said, knocking the item closer to Ben.

With a roll of his eyes, Ben picked the weapon up. “It’s a gun, Callum,” he replied sarcastically. “I was hoping what with you being in the army, you might have a bit of knowledge there.”

“Yeah, you use this and you go to prison,” Callum responded nervously. “Where did you get it?”

Ben ignored the question. “I was hoping for a little more than that,” he replied. “What’s the trajectory, the impact and power, that sort of thing. If I wanted a lecture of rules and regulations I would have gone to Jay.”

“What are you gonna do?” Callum asked, getting out of his seat. The sight of it in Ben’s hands caused his stomach to ripple. He walked around the table and pulled the gun out of Ben’s hand, stepping back.

“Would you believe I’m just doing research for a novel? Business is a bit slow at the carlot, thought I’d write a good murder mystery,” he replied with a smirk.

“This isn’t for…you’re not gonna do something stupid are you?” Callum asked, a hundred thoughts rolling through his mind as he cradled the gun.

Ben’s face softened then at the inference in Callum’s words. “No,” he replied firmly, holding his hand back out for the weapon. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Promise me,” Callum ordered, his breathing becoming heavy with fear.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Ben!” Callum exclaimed. “I’m being serious. Promise me.”

“Promise,” Ben whispered, coming to stand up near Callum. “Hey, how about this? ‘My Dearest Whitney, I’ve had the best times of my life with you, apart from that one time I stood in the moonlight kissing a boy. He saw me at my lowest and I saw him at his and I knew just by looking into his eyes that we could never lie to each other.”

Callum handed over the gun, trying to ignore the spark that hit his body when their fingers briefly touched. “What do you need it for then?” he asked, going to sit back down, needing to put some distance between their bodies immediately.

“Not sure yet,” Ben replied, falling back in his chair. “Just in case. Did you ever shoot anyone?”

“What?” Callum replied, thrown by the conversation being turned towards him.

“When you was a soldier, did you shoot anyone?” Ben asked bluntly.

Callum didn’t want to talk about the army, not now anyway. It was still a time that was raw and heavy with regret and fear. “I shot Mick,” he confessed willingly.

Ben’s mouth broke into a huge smile. “I’m sorry, did you just say you shot the landlord of the pub? The man who took you in and treated you like his own? When did this happen?”

“About eighteen months ago,” Callum replied, thinking of the day he came to the Square. “It weren’t on purpose, I was just caught up in the wrong thing. I didn’t kill him.”

“Well I didn’t think I was being served pints by a ghost, Callum,” Ben replied, mockingly. “Blimey, you are my little dark horse, aren’t you?”

“It was ages ago now,” Callum explained. “He was fine after a while. It was a gun a bit like that.”

Ben raised his eyebrows and turned over the gun, examining it. “What if it’s the same one? Would you object to me singing The Circle of Life, right now?

“It’s not a joke, Ben,” he pleaded. “Be careful, yeah?”

“Aye, aye captain,” Ben replied with a salute. “I bet Linda went ballistic. I’d ask if she cut your knackers off for shooting her husband, but I know they’re still there.”

“Ben!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot it’s ‘Callum Denial Day’ again isn’t it? I always get that mixed up with ‘Hump Day’ on my calendar,” Ben said, motioning to stand up, tucking the gun back behind his jacket. “I’ll be on my merry way then.”

“You’re the one that said you didn’t want the hassle of dealing with me,” Callum reminded him.

“Well, like I said, you should have known that was a lie,” Ben replied softly, heading towards the door. “Just write from the heart, Callum. That’s the only place you’re going to find the truth.”

Callum let a long breath out once he was gone. His whole body felt alive, dancing in time to the rhythm of his freed heart. He ripped off the top page of his notebook, screwing up the paper with Whitney’s name on and throwing it in the bin. There was always google. He could swap some words around and Whitney would never know. It at least gave him some breathing space.

 Picking up his pen he started scribbling, the paper remaining nameless on top, but clearly etched into his heart. He couldn’t show this to his fiancée, but he thought that perhaps admitting these words to someone, if only an inquisitive page, would help ease his mind.