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It had been raining for some time. The persistent drizzle mirrored the man's emotions perfectly, darkened clouds casting a gloom on the beautiful grounds. The beat of rain on the glass made The Captain sigh, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he drained the rest of his drink, pouring himself another. The liquor burned his throat and numbed his senses, making him blink blearily around his office.
He could still see him. Havers. Or rather the absence of him. The space he used to fill. In the room. In his heart. The Captain buried his feelings, as he always did, the ache in his chest pushed into a tight diamond. Still there, still painful, but small as it burned at the back of his mind.
A rap on the door made him gasp, and he straightened. "Come." He said, before feeling something cold. He quickly reached for his face, swiping at his cheek. Why was he crying? He never cried. But the tear wetting his fingertips was defiant, and he pursed his lips.
The person at the door was the one man he both longed to see, and wished he could forget. Havers had his bag on his back, coat and hat donned, and he offered The Captain a gentle smile. "Sorry to interrupt, sir. I just wanted to say goodbye again." His lips thinned, and he looked at the floor. "I've never had a CO quite like you, sir, and I'd hate myself if I didn't tell you that before I left."
The Captain felt his stomach twist in an awful, delightful way. He returned Havers's smile. "I rather think the sentiment is mutual, Havers." He turned to pick up his glass, offering it to the other man. "For old time's sake?"
Havers hesitated, but nodded and stepped forward. "Oh, alright then… I do have a schedule, but they can wait a few more minutes." He took the glass from The Captain, and the way his fingertips grazed across his thumb sent shockwaves through his skin. He stifled a gasp, teeth pinching his inner lip as he watched Havers lift the glass to his lips, the gentle motion of his Adam's apple bobbing being almost hypnotic. The Captain couldn't look away, despite the embarrassment flushing his cheeks.
When Havers was finished, he gestured to the crystal decanter. "Could I…?"
"Of course." The Captain nodded, and he reached for the decanter at the same time as Havers. Their hands met on the cool glass, and The Captain actually jumped with shock, not having the sense to draw his hand away. Havers didn't either. It felt like poetry, like agony, as if he were being torn apart from the inside out by burning galaxies, far too big to fit in his ribcage. His skin flared with heat, his heart in his throat, his mouth as dry as sand. Their eyes lingered on their hands, then moved up to meet each other at the same time. The Captain opened his mouth to speak, but it was quickly morphed back into a forced smile. "Sorry." Was all he managed to squeak out with his tight throat, his hand pulling away. The contact dimmed the burning starlight, leaving a smouldering crater, the smoke choking him with acrid fumes of shame and longing.
Havers lingered for just a second more, eyes snagging on The Captain's as though caught on a fishhook, though he pushed it away sharply and poured himself another drink. Not a word was shared as he drank that too, and The Captain hated that he was trying to figure out if the reddening of his cheeks were due to their touch or the alcohol. "Thank you, sir." Havers was quiet as he set the glass down on The Captain's desk. "A little Dutch courage."
"Yes… Do keep yourself safe, Antony." He added, his chest clenching with the weight of his name, his first name. He regretted the intimacy, a metal taste in his mouth. He'd bitten his tongue. "And give Jerry a bop in the nose for me, what?"
Havers nodded with a smile. "Of course, sir." He lifted a hesitant hand, his fingers curling as he changed his mind, but conviction came through and he gave The Captain a brisk pat on his upper arm. "For King and Country, eh, sir?" He gave The Captain a grin, mischievous, parroting the words back at him that he always liked to use.
"Precisely." The Captain nodded, the handprint on his arm still there, as though stained with red, his heart fast and loud as he watched Havers move to leave his office. He didn't let himself linger, couldn't make himself watch him go, for the final time.
This was always going to be. They were both two leaves, dropped from their trees into the rushing waters of war. They may have managed to cling for just a moment, one infinitesimal moment, but the current had dragged them apart. And here The Captain was, drowning alone in the cold.
As he saw Havers walk through that gate, he stared with a chill in his limbs that he'd never felt before. Hollow. That was the only word he could place on the feeling. It was as though he'd been living his life by candlelight, the dancing flame giving him warmth and hope. This was the breeze that extinguished it, leaving naught but the pleasant scented smoke, a ghost of a memory of what was. He was in suffocating darkness, unknowing of when his candle would once again be lit.