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It’s quiet, save for the whispered conversations of nearby soldiers pressed together further down the line.
It’s quiet, save for the light breeze that’s rustling through the trenches.
It’s quiet, save for the heavy sigh of a soldier settling himself down beside Schofield.
“Hey,” Blake says, a gentle hand laying down on Schofield’s shoulder and pulling his mind towards him, his eyes falling onto Blake’s soft, smiling face. “You alright?”
Schofield blinks. His eyelids feel heavy, tired. He nods.
Blake squeezes his shoulder in understanding, before dropping his gear and sliding deeper into the mud next to him. They don’t speak for a few minutes, taking in the quiet surrounding them, engulfing them.
The quiet used to soothe Schofield, back when he was a kid, back when he was at home and couldn’t breathe for the anxieties flooding his veins. Now… now the quiet only causes him panic. Nerves set alight, an eerie feeling lurking behind every moment when nobody speaks, nobody moves.
The quiet scares Schofield now.
“I hope this is all over soon.” Blake whispers, hand blindly reaching out to brush lightly over Schofield’s thigh. Schofield can feel the warmth that spreads through his chest, the way his heart flutters and threatens to burst right through his ribs as he turns his palm upwards and lets Blake entwine their fingers. Blake squeezes his hand.
“Me too.”
Blake sighs, “I want to see my mum again. My brother, too.” It’s an admission many men don’t feel safe speaking aloud out here, but Schofield is yet again reminded of how Blake hardly passes as a man anyway.
“You will.” he tries to promise, even though his voice is as empty as the silence. He’d say anything to rid that awful sadness from Blake’s voice, though.
As though reading his mind, Blake lets out a humourless laugh and shakes his head. “You can’t know that.”
Schofield’s heart breaks at the honest truth of it all. Nobody can know whether they’ll ever see home again, sitting and wondering as they wait through the long nights. That’s probably the hardest part of the silence; being stuck with your own dark thoughts.
“I’m glad you’re here, though.” Blake says, voice a touch lighter now. He twists to smile at Schofield and, even in the dark, Schofield feels warm all over from the fondness directed his way. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
Schofield feels safe enough, tucked away far enough down the line and shrouded in dark shadows, to reach out and stroke a knuckle over Blake’s cheek. His skin is soft and heated, despite where they are, and Schofield watches in awe as Blake leans into the touch as his eyes flutter closed for a split-second. Blake’s never been good at hiding his emotions and that’s perhaps what Schofield finds most endearing about him.
Besides the fact that Blake seems to adore him.
“If I ever lost you,” Blake chokes up, swallowing thickly as he blinks his eyes open and stares at Schofield, searching right through his soul, “I would fall apart.”
Schofield has to fight to not let the tears fall as he leans closer, hand slipping to cup the back of Blake’s neck. “Hey,” he says, voice stern enough to keep Blake’s attention without sounding harsh, “don’t even say shit like that.”
Blake bites his lip, glancing down. “I’m sorry, it’s just-… I can’t help thinking about it.”
“Well don’t.” Schofield tells him, guiding Blake’s head down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He doesn’t pull away much, allowing his lips to brush over Blake’s hairline as he speaks. “I’m here, you’re here, that’s all that matters right now.”
Blake nods, pressing closer and letting out a ragged sigh as Schofield kisses his hair, hands coming up to cling at Schofield’s jacket.
“We’re gonna get away from here.” Schofield says with as much sincerity as he can muster, “Because I need to meet your mother. You’ve been going on about her apple pie for weeks now but I really should try it before I can agree that it’s the best.”
The laugh that Blake lets out is happy, a soft chuckle that sends warm air over Schofield’s skin and he smiles. “Alright. I’ll hold you to that.” Blake smirks, lifting his chin and closing the distance between them until their lips meet in a chaste kiss. Nothing more than a peck, really, but it grounds Schofield and has him even more determined to follow through with his own words.
They pull apart and Blake rests his head on Schofield’s shoulder, hair tickling against Schofield’s jaw.
The silence seems a lot less scary now, with Blake by his side, and Schofield manages to relax as much as one can in such circumstances, thinking of cherry blossom trees and apple pies and Blake, safe and happy and smiling with his family.