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Eugene doesn’t quite remember how he ended up here. In fact, he’s not entirely sure why he's here.
Actually, no, that’s not true. He knows why he’s here. He’s just not sure why he’s here now. After seven months.
He hangs his head, staring at the whites of his knuckles gripping the steering wheel. The dying hum of the truck's engine surrounded his mind, joined only by his own ragged breathing. His hair, much longer now, flopped over his eyes and shielded them from the late afternoon sunlight. He’s not completely certain on the time; knows he’s been on the road for a good few hours. He hasn’t even eaten anything – not since he slipped out of the house and stole the family truck.
Which, now that he’s in a more stable mind-set, may not have been his best plan. No doubt his father will have noticed the two absences and already sent out a search party. Or perhaps he understands Eugene needs his space? His mother won’t be pleased, either way.
Regardless, it doesn’t matter now. He’s here. And this will be the last place they’ll think to look for him. Besides, it’s not like he’s running away or anything drastic; he’ll be home before long.
In fact, he’ll probably be home by dawn tomorrow. Because, really, what was Eugene thinking driving all this way without so much as a warning? What right does he have showing up here uninvited? He’s not going to want to talk to Eugene. Of course not. Not then, not now, not ever.
It’s too late to turn back now though, Eugene realises, as he lifts his head in time to see movement by the front window of the very house he’s pulled up next to. The drapes flickering to show that someone had seen him already. He can hardly turn back now.
Taking in a deep breath of air, holding it in for a moment as he feels his mind still, Eugene opens the truck door and hops out.
It doesn’t feel any different – the air, that is. Eugene isn't really sure what he expected though. It’s still warm out, perhaps more humid here than Mobile. He’s already sweating after spending hours cooped up in the truck with not nearly enough wind passing through the open windows.
Sparing a glance back to the truck, Eugene sighs and turns towards the small house in front of him. It’s quaint, a modest garden with a variety of bright and colourful flowers blooming already. Nothing in comparison to his home back in Alabama. A complete contrast. Yet, Eugene finds that he likes it.
He double check the number on the door, making sure it matches the address scrawled in untidy handwriting on a scrap of paper (torn from the corner of a book) that he has crumpled in his palm. It's a miracle that it’s not ruined by now; dirt-covered and damped with sweat. His heart flutters at the memory of rough fingers placing it in his hand, probably well over a year ago now.
Surely, if he didn’t want to see him, he wouldn’t have given him this? But, then again, things can change. Feelings change. A lot is different when you’re in the middle of a war.
Fist raising before he can change his mind for the hundredth time already, Eugene readies himself for the expected argument about to ensue. He’s prepared for every scenario possible – negative or not. Or, at least, he thought he was. But when the door’s finally opened and he’s greeted with a smaller woman (not much younger than his mother, he notes) his breath seems to get caught in his throat.
“Hello?” the woman questions, obviously confused but a friendly smile on her face nonetheless.
Eugene has to blink a couple times, with a subtle shake of his head, before he can even begin to comprehend what’s happened right now.
No. This isn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to go like this! He’d have taken a punch, a hug, a harsh shout or insult. He'd have excepted the door slamming straight back into his face. Anything but this! Where is he? Why would he give him this address? Was he too late?
“Dear?” the woman's resting a gentle hand on his shoulder now, previous confusion melted into worry now. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I...uh-” how does he explain this?
It seems like he doesn’t have to right now, as the woman begins to guide him into her home with a gentle nudge and a reassuring smile. “C'mon, I’ve just brewed some coffee. Take a seat, you look tired.” Eugene doesn’t have time to refuse the offer, just nodding and allowing her to lead her through the narrow hallway and into a cramped but homely looking room. She holds the hand-knitted shawl, that's draped around her shoulders, closer to her chest as he tells him to get settled. It’s funny, Eugene realises, but there's something about her voice that blankets him in a familiar calm and he finds himself doing as she says.
It’s only a minute before she returns with two mugs of steaming coffee, a little pot of milk placed on the coffee table between the couch Eugene's sat at and the armchair she's taken. The furniture in the room is all worn and old looking, but it has a character to it that Eugene can’t help but smile at. There’s something comforting about the place, and it isn’t just the lingering aroma of freshly baked bread.
“So, dear, what’s it that brought you here?”
Eugene takes a careful sip of his coffee before talking, voice raspy at first. “I- uh...I was looking for an old friend.” The woman doesn’t respond with anything but an encouraging raise of an eyebrow, urging him to continue. “Snaf- um, Shelton.”
At that, her face lights up. A bright smile spreads across her lips and Eugene notices that she sits up a little straighter. “Oh, y’mean Merriell?”
The relief that washes over Eugene is positively laughable. So he was here then? Somewhere...
“Yeah, Merriell. Is he- uh, does he live here?”
“Yes, dear. He’s just run to the store, shan't be long now.”
There’s clearly many questions that she has for him, though he suspects she knows how he knows Snafu because why else would she have let him in earlier? That doesn’t stop him from explaining himself to her though, telling her about serving with Snafu in the marines (but leaving out the gory details), mentioning how they’d got on well and that Snafu had once mentioned Eugene visiting him. Eugene can still hear his voice now, playful drawl as a shoulder bumps into his.
“Ya best not leave me, sledgehamma'. Expect monthly letters an' all that shit. Best visit me, I’ll ‘ave room on the couch for ya scrawny ass.”
Followed by Bill hollering from behind them, “We all know that couch won’t be touched. Don’t wanna know what nasty shit y'all would get up to left alone.”
“Fuck you, Leyden.” Snafu laughed, taking a long drag of his smoke. Eugene smirked, trying not to catch Snafu's eye.
“You wish.” Bill muttered, but the conversation soon changed.
“-always was, even as a boy.” Snafu's mother spoke and Eugene blushed, registering that he’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard her start speaking. She didn’t seem to notice, or if she had she didn’t comment on it. “Where're ya from then...?” she gestured, sentence trailing as she realised she didn't know his name.
“Eugene.” he hastily informed her, “Eugene Sledge. I’m from Mobile, Alabama, ma'am.”
She smiled, nodding. “Alabama’s a nice place.”
“’s'alright, there’s nicer places.” Taking another sip of his drink, Eugene tried to think up of a new topic that would steer them clear from talking about his home. He wasn’t sure what to tell her if she started asking about his family and life plans. All of that nonsense that he’s tried so hard to ignore for seven months, which clearly didn’t work otherwise he wouldn’t be sat here in New Orleans waiting to see someone that might not even want to see him.
Luckily, or maybe unluckily depending on how you choose to see it, Eugene didn’t have to dwell on that last thought for much longer.
“Ma? You home?” a familiar southern drawl called out down the hallway? Eugene froze in his seat, gripping the delicate mug in his hand much tighter than before. Chills ran down his spine and he suddenly realised that what he was doing right now was completely mad. Ridiculous! He's finally lost his damn mind, hasn’t he?
“In here, dear! There’s someone here to see you.” Snafu's mother said, voice bright and cheerful, on the edge of excitement. Was he the first to visit Snafu after they returned home? He hadn’t even thought to ask that. It’s not like many have kept in touch with him, but a few did.
Suddenly, there’s the sound of heavy footsteps drawing nearer and Eugene’s fight or flight instinct kicks in. But, no, he has to stay. He’s come this far already. And there’s nowhere for him to run anyway.
“Who'd wann-” Eugene hears Snafu's sentence cut short, watches as his face flicks through countless emotions from curiosity, to caution, to surprise, before finally settling on something unreadable. Thick eyebrows knitted together, wide eyes staring intensely at him in a way so familiar to Eugene that he visibly shakes. Snafu doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t do anything until the sound of a clatter and a glass of milk rolling over the wooden floor breaks whatever tension had filled the room. “Sledgehamma'? Fuck are you doin’ ‘ere?’
“Merriell! Careless. Lucky you didn't break that, got no more milk left.” Snafu’s mother fusses, rising from her chair and rushing to pick to fallen glass bottle from the floor and push past her son to presumably put it away safely. “I’ll put some lunch on.” she calls on her way out, but besides from a low grunt from Snafu she receives no reply.
The silence is deafening.
Eugene wants so desperately to speak but he doesn’t know what to say. He’d spent the whole journey here planning out things to tell Snafu, all the things he wanted to say way back then...but now, nothing comes to mind.
“The fuck?” Snafu mutters, hand shakily running through his curls (that are definitely longer than they used to be and Eugene suddenly wants nothing more than to be that hand).
Eugene’s shaking his head, eyes wide and watery but he still can’t speak. He can see the tears welling up, feels the dam burst and the first drop roll down his cheek. His hands worry together in his lap, and the urge to look down is so strong. But he’s transfixed by Snafu's eyes, gaze intense and holding him frozen in place. His chest aches.
“Gene...” Snafu’s voice is less accusing now, barely above a whisper and it cracks in a way that is so un-Snafu-like. He goes to take a step forward but seems to think better of it, going back and digging his hands deep into his pockets. Eugene feels his eyes watch the tears that are falling in a steady stream now, not bothering to wipe them away. He feels pathetic, crying like this in front of Snafu of all people, but fuck he’s missed him so much.
It’s only when Snafu ducks his head, lip tugged between his teeth and eyes squeezing shut, that Eugene finds his voice again. “I’m sorry.” he admits, sounding weak and broken but unable to do anything about it. Now he’s spoken, he can’t stop, apology after apology spilling out of his mouth in a messy rush. “I’m so sorry, Snaf. I-I didn't...I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-”
He’s cut off when a hand lands heavily on his shoulder, thumb resting on the back of his neck, and he blinks his eyes open (when did he shut them?) to look up and be met with Snafu standing over him. A shaky smile rests on the other man’s face, his own eyes not as dry as Eugene expected.
“Gene,” Snafu spoke, rubbing his thumb in small circles on Eugene’s neck and he melts into the touch. “Shut the fuck up.” There’s that usual laugh, humour in his voice again, and it only causes Eugene to relax further. Snafu wasn’t mad. He...he was actually happy to see him?
“I’m sorry.” Eugene repeated, meeting Snafu's exasperated gaze, noticing something different lurking behind those eyes but unable to decipher it.
Snafu doesn’t even grace him with a response this time, shaking his head with a small smile. It only takes a moment for Eugene to register the body in front of him getting closer, Snafu's head dipping down until their faces are close enough for him to feel Snafu's warm breath on his face. A recognisable waft of sandalwood and smoke assaults his senses and Eugene lets slip a soft sigh, leaning closer. Now, two hands – rough and possibly covered in soil but Eugene hardly has the energy to care – cup his face, forcing him to look nowhere but straight into Snafu’s eyes. Green and brown, murky like swamp water but so endearing to Eugene. They calmed him. Told him everything was going to be okay. They’d make it through this. They'd see the end of the night, they’d see the end of the war, they’d survive.
They never lied to him.
“Fuck...cher,” Snafu was speaking again, voice no more than a whisper that washed over Eugene’s face. “I never thought I’d see ya again.”
“’m sorry,” Eugene mumbled as best he could with his face still in Snafu's grip. Snafu chuckled, low and warm and God forgive me but I love him.
Taking them both by surprise, Eugene surged forwards until their lips connected. It was nothing perfect, not like in the films, the bitter taste of smoke and tears mixed together between their mouths but it was enough. It was more than enough. Snafu tensed at first, but he soon melted into Eugene, hands on his face loosening until they slipped just under his jaw and dragged him impossibly closer. A muffled moan escaped Eugene's mouth and his hands scrambled to find purchase in Snafu's shirt, clawing at his back and tugging him down, the heat under his palms causing his heart to race.
He was real. He was alive. He was here.
A gentle, insistent nudge at his lips had Eugene parting them and his body shivering at the touch of tongue on tongue when Snafu slipped past. It wasn’t rushed, there was none of their old intensity and arousal in this kiss. Not this time. No, this time it was slow and relaxed, like a melody. Drinking each other in as though they'd been dehydrated for months. And, perhaps, on some level they had. Eugene hadn’t understood just how much he’d missed this, hadn’t been able to comprehend how important Snafu was in his life. When he’d woken up alone on the train, it had stung but he’d been so sure that he’d get over it.
He could almost laugh, now, thinking about how naive he’d been. How could he ever think it possible to live without this?
Snafu mumbled something into his mouth, not bothering to pull himself away just long enough to speak clearly. It didn’t matter, Eugene didn’t care, they could talk later. Right now, he needed this moment for just a moment longer.
Hands moving to Snafu's head, fingers carding through those thick curls and tugging with a reserved gentleness, he smiled in response to the moan emitted into the kiss. Snafu bit at his bottom lip teasingly, tongue running over it apologetically when he made a startled sound. Eugene just drew him in more, sucking at the tongue that was exploring his mouth with experienced fervour.
They had to part eventually, much to both of their disappointment. Taking large gulps of air, Eugene closed his eyes when Snafu pressed their foreheads together. He could feel that unblinking stare on him again, burning at his skin. But it didn’t make him itch and squirm like he remembered it doing when he first met Snafu. No, now it felt comfortable. Made him blush and smile.
“Missed you so much, cher.” Snafu breathed out, thumb running over Eugene’s cheekbone and he realised then that he'd started crying again. “Though ya’d forgotten ‘bout me. Or just wanted to leave that shit behind. I'd’ve understood. Y'deserve a pretty girl, happy families, all that shit.”
Eugene’s heart wrenched feeling the broken words coming from the man in front of him – who was kneeling on the floor now, when did that happen? “Shut up.”
“’s true. I don’t deserve ya. Not like this.”
“I said shut up, Snaf.” Eugene spat, but there was no heat behind his words. He blinked up at the man and searched his eyes for any sign that he regretted any of this, but he couldn’t find any. All he was met with was an overwhelming sense of vulnerability that he never thought he’d see in Snafu. He tilted his head to press his lips against Snafu's in a chaste kiss, just because he could. “I made my choice, alright? Don’t want none of that shit.”
Snafu laughed, wet and tearful. “What took ya s’long?”
Eugene shrugged, caressing Snafu's face and admiring the fact that he really was here and he could touch him like this. Snafu didn’t flinch under his hand, just watched Eugene’s face waiting for an answer. “I’m an idiot.”
“Tell ya that for free.” Snafu teased, nudging his shoulder back playfully. Eugene laughed, lightly. They both stopped, smiles dropping in sync when Eugene took a sharp inhale of breath.
“I love you.”
Snafu's eyes widened. His hand dropped from Eugene’s shoulder. And Eugene panicked.
Why does he always manage to fuck anything good in his life up? Why couldn’t he just shut his mouth and enjoy the moment? Of course Snafu didn’t love him, he just enjoyed messing around with him. This was lust, not love. How could Eugene be so damn careless?
“I love you too, fucking idiot.” Snafu's warm voice broke Eugene from his panic and he forced himself to look back up into the man’s face. There was no lie there, just the truth. And suddenly it hit him, what he’d seen earlier. Snafu loved him.
He really loved him.
Grabbing the man’s face and crashing their lips together, Eugene began repeating the words over and over against Snafu's lips, unable to stop now that he’s said it once. Snafu let him, seemed to enjoy it as he smiled into the broken kiss. “Love you so much.” he confirmed.
“I hope leftover quiche an’ salad is alright, boys-” Snafu's mother cuts short and Eugene pushes Snafu away from him with lightning speed, as though she miraculously might not have just witnessed what they were doing. He'd been stupid enough to forget about the other occupant of the house, so lost in everything else. Lost in Snafu.
“It's not what i-” Eugene starts just as Snafu starts clambering towards his mother, eyes wide and hands held out as though she might attack.
“Ma, I swear-”
“Mer,” she starts, already lowering the plates of food to the table.
“Please, don’t- I didn't- we weren’t....” Snafu trails off, probably for the best because they couldn’t really deny what they were doing.
“Merriell, would you shut up.” Snafu's mother scolds, and Eugene gets flashbacks of his own mother reprimanding him. “Please.” she adds as an afterthought and Eugene struggles to fight back a smile.
Snafu sighs, giving in, a hand coming up to rub between his eyes and Eugene has the urge to reach for his hand. He resists, fingers tightening around the hem of his shirt.
“How long?” is all she asked, settling back into her armchair and looking at them as though she’d merely asked the weather report.
Snafu glances between Eugene and his mother, and Eugene notes that this is one of the very rare moments in which the sarcastic, chatty Cajun is left speechless.
“Since Okinawa.” Eugene responds. He doesn’t go into detail. Doesn’t even know how much Snafu has told her about their time away.
She nods, looking thoughtful. Then, she fixes Snafu with a familiar intense gaze. “He make you happy?”
Snafu’s breath audibly hitches. Eugene finds himself tense, eyes on Snafu – who doesn’t seem to know where to look.
“Course,” is the response. Snafu's mother simply raises an eyebrow. It’s enough to get the man talking. “He's like no-one I’ve ever met. Didn’t think he'd be stupid ‘nuff to come back t'me though.” Snafu huffs a laugh and chances a look towards Eugene.
‘Idiot.’ Eugene mouths at him, but the corners of his mouth betray him and he breaks into a smile.
Snafu looks worried again, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he turns back to his mother. Eugene hears the plea in his voice, the crack as he pushes down a wave of tears. Again, the urge to reach out and grab his hand is there – only ten times stronger this time. “Ma, please. I love him...”
The silence that follows is one of the worst things Eugene’s experienced. And he’s been through Hell and back. But this...he's on edge, skin prickled as he awaits their fate. What will she do? He'll be kicked out and sent back home, for sure. Will she do the same to Snafu? Throw him out to the streets? He knows countless families that would. He'd be stupid to think differently.
But then, Snafu's mother is standing up, hands already on her son as she pulls him against her. He all but tumbles into her arms, face buried into her neck when she tightens her hold on him. “Then I love him too.”
Snafu crumbles, his knees buckle and Eugene jumps up to hold up steady before anyone can tell him not to. A weak sob is muffled into his mother's shawl and Eugene bites his lip. He feels like he’s intruding, like this is a moment between mother and son, but at the same time he’s flooded with relief and respect for this woman who clearly loves her son unconditionally. He could only ever dream of such understanding. But now is definitely not the time for jealousy. Not over this.
“Get in ‘ere.” a soft voice murmurs and Eugene is suddenly being pulled into the hug as well, body collapsing against Snafu's back and a warm hand pressed to the base of his back.
There’s a lot of muffled thanks and apologies and declarations of love. It all becomes much like a blur and Eugene isn’t really sure how they end up sat down eventually, Snafu’s mother in her armchair and her son and him sat on the couch. Snafu has his head resting on Eugene's shoulder, finger tracing a circle over his palm that sends shivers down Eugene's spine. They end up eating the food, sharing light conversation but Eugene really just drifts from that to his mind, wondering just how he managed to get this lucky. When he'd slipped out of the house this morning, he hadn’t thought this to be a possibility. Didn’t actually expect this outcome.
When he feels Snafu grow heavier, leaning more into his side and head dropping to his chest, he realises how late it’s gotten. The late afternoon sun has long since been replaced by a glistening moon, visible through the still opened drapes. A light snore ripples through the quiet of the room and Eugene can’t help but smile, carding fingers through curls and pressing his lips to them in a fleeting kiss. Memories of sitting in a muddy foxhole, drifting between sleep and keeping each other alert. Never did he think he'd make it here.
As he’s looking up, Eugene catches the gaze of Snafu's mother, spotting a look of fondness in her eyes. His face must show his apprehension though, because she smiles that comforting smile he’s sure only mothers can pull off. “It’s okay.” she speaks softly, as though she may be unwilling to break the dreamlike atmosphere surrounding them. “All of it. It’s okay, dear.”
Eugene gives her a puzzled look, gently squeezing Snafu's hand when he feels him stir. “How? How’re you this...understanding?”
She sighs, sadly. “I may not understand it all, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Never seen no-one care for him like you seem to.” she explains, and that aching in his chest is back again. He runs a soothing thumb over the back of Snafu's hand. “No-one's been back to see him since. Not a single letter, nothing. Thought maybe he didn’t make connections, how he's always been. But he seemed different when he came back...and not just from the war. Happier. But on edge. All makes sense now s'pose.”
Eugene smiled, but he couldn’t push away that anger of nobody reaching out to Snafu. He knows he didn’t make it easy on the others, but that surely doesn’t mean they should just forget about him. Or is that what he wanted? That was probably a worry for another day.
“Thank you.” He says instead, smiling earnestly. “For everything.”
“Don’t thank me, dear. You're part of the family now.”