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“I saw you making a break for it.” Sid's voice broke through the quiet solitude that Eugene had created. He looked up from his pipe to watch his old friend descend the stairs, two glasses in hand. “Thought you could use a punch properly spiked.”
He hands one of the drinks to Eugene, who takes it with a grateful smile.
“Thank you.” he says around his pipe, a cloud of smoke leaving with the words.
Sid nods, settling down on one of the higher steps and taking a sip of his own drink. “Drink fast. If Mary catches us she'll have me back inside dancing all night.”
Eugene chuckles, raising a finger to his friend. “See that? It’s why I’m still a bachelor.” Tucking his pipe into his breast pocket, Eugene glances back up at Sid. “I don’t dance until Eugene Sledge wants to dance.”
Sidney smirks, a small shake of his head, and it makes Eugene think back to times before the war; back when they were young and carefree and spent their days ribbing each other and rolling around in fields.
An unwelcome, familiar feeling weighs in his chest at the thought and Eugene sighs. His hands itch to grab for his pipe again but he resists, choosing instead to take a gulp of whatever alcohol Sid had managed to grab.
“How did all this happen? I mean, look at us, Sid. Sitting here at a dance, drinking punch. Not a scratch on either of us. I mean, what the Hell are we doing here?” He’s talking before he even realises it, not giving himself chance to feel guilty about his words until they’re already out in the open.
Sid looks down at his glass, swirling the amber liquid.
Eugene doesn’t wait for a reply. He hasn’t been able to speak his mind in a long while now and it feels like he’s just released a dam. It feels good. To be able to get his frustration out. “And why? Why did I end up back here when all those other fellas didn’t?”
“I thought that.” Sidney’s voice, quiet and subdued, speaks up at last. He’s looking at Eugene now, face devoid of any humour. “Every guy back has thought that. You just gotta pull yourself out of bed in the morning and get on with the day. You do that enough times in a row, you forget some things.”
Eugene holds his breath, jaw clenching. He wants to argue. He doesn’t want to forget. How dare he be allowed to just forget when all those men lost their lives out there?
But then Sid’s looking at him with something new in his eyes, something that looks rather uncomfortably close to sorrow and regret and a deep rooted sadness that Eugene is met with in every damn mirror he looks in lately. “For a while anyway...”
It's confirmation enough for Eugene to know now that Sid doesn’t want to forget either. That not Sid, nor anyone else, can forget. The war is going to be something that they carry on their shoulders for the foreseeable future – if not the rest of their lives – and they’re just going to have to find ways to deal with it.
Eugene feels awful then, at the realisation that all Sid was trying to do was help him cope and instead he’d lashed out. He hadn't meant to bring Sidney's spirits down with his.
He's just about to apologise, when Mary's voice calls out from behind Sid – in the direction of the ball. “Sidney Phillips!”
Sid jumps, head whipping round to look for Mary. “Yeah?”
“You get back in here and dance with the woman who loves you.” Mary chides, coming into view now, her hand resting on her hip as she watches them both. Eugene shares a brief smile with Sid as he stands up.
“I’m coming, boss lady!” Sid calls before fixing Eugene with another look that feels all too serious for their current location. “Why don’t you come on in? I'll wrangle you a partner.”
Eugene laughs, giving a small shake of his head as he looks down. “No, uh...no...”
Sid nods, albeit disappointedly, and he looks as though he’s about to say something else but decides better of it. Eugene watches as Sidney takes Mary's arm and walks back off inside, knocking back the last drops of his drink.
He wonders what it must be like to have someone that loves you. Eugene went through the war, he fought, cried, stole lives, but he’s never felt the warmth of a lover.
His brother seems pretty certain he'll find a woman easy enough.
Eugene isn’t sure that’s what he wants.
There’s movement beside him, just out of his vision, but Eugene doesn’t think to look since it’s a ball and half the town's population is here. That is, until a hand rests gently on his shoulder followed by an unmistakable southern drawl that unearths a whole flood of emotions.
“So when does Eugene Sledge wanna dance?”
Eugene can’t help but hold his breath, sure he's finally cracked and is imagining things now. But as he turns to his right, he’s met with the same wide-eyed stare he'd grown so accustomed to. The same dangerous smile. The same, perhaps longer now, dark curls and tanned skin that’s no longer covered in mud and blood but scrubbed clean. Eugene almost reaches out to run his fingers over the faded scar along the man’s cheekbone.
“Snaf...”
Snafu smirks, head tilting to the side in a way that has always managed to make him look like an innocent puppy despite the fact that Eugene knows full well what the man is capable of. “Glad ya haven’t lost ya memory then, sledgehamma'.”
Eugene lets out a long breath, hand moving to grip Snafu's wrist without thinking. Snafu hardly flinched at the unexpected touch. He doesn’t make a move to remove the hold Eugene has on him.
“What are you doing here?”
Snafu shrugs. “What are you doing here?”
Eugene rolls his eyes, hand sliding down from Snafu's wrist to lace his fingers with the older man’s. The defiant smirk on Snafu's face soon melts into a warm smile, squeezing Eugene’s hand reassuringly.
“I'm sorry.” It's two words. Two words that Eugene has heard countless times in his life. Yet he’s never heard them from Snafu, not like this. They’re heavy, hold more meaning than any one passing by could ever imagine, and Eugene can feel the sting behind his eyes as he lets them wash over him.
With a sniff, quickly rubbing his eyes with his free hand, Eugene sighs. “You fucking should be.”
Snafu laughs. A thumb runs over his knuckles.
“So how about it?” Snafu has lowered his voice now, leaning in closer but not enough to raise suspicion.
“Huh?”
“A dance. Would Eugene Sledge give me the honour of sharing a dance?”
Eugene can’t help but laugh again, and he wonders how Snafu can make him feel so at ease after weeks of struggling with normal life. Maybe it’s the reminder of a time once gone, but of the good things and not the bad.
“People will see.” he says even though, in this moment, he wants nothing more than to dance with Snafu.
Snafu, forever unbothered by people’s opinions, shrugs as he takes Eugene’s hands and places them around his neck. He then settles his own hands on Eugene’s waist, tugging him closer. “We best give them a show then.”
It’s an awful idea and Eugene is burning up at the thought of what questions will await him tomorrow, but with Snafu's breath by his ear and the smile in the usually haunted eyes Eugene finds it hard to pull away.
Taking the first step, Eugene smiles too when Snafu gets the message and begins to lead the dance (he makes a mental note to question where Snafu learnt to dance in the first place, but that can wait). The music from inside is just audible, drifting softly out to where they're stood.
He tucks his face into the crook between Snafu's shoulder and neck, breathing in the fresh smell of shampoo and wood, along with the familiar air of smoke that always did linger around the man. It’s oddly comforting and Eugene finds himself brushing his lips over the skin of Snafu's neck before he even realises he’s done it. Snafu doesn’t say anything, merely holds him tighter as they away with the music.
“I’m sorry too.” Eugene whispers into the night. Sorry for what? Sorry for the arguments. Sorry for falling asleep on the train. Sorry for not bothering to get in touch.
Snafu responds with a soft hum. It doesn’t matter now. They can’t dwell on it.