Chapter Text
Suppose two lovers are lying together and Hephaestus stands over them with his mending tools, asking, ‘What is it you human beings really want from each other?’ And suppose they’re perplexed, and he asks them again, ‘Is this your heart’s desire, then—for the two of you to become parts of the same whole, as near as can be, and never to separate, day or night? Because if that’s your desire, I’d like to weld you together and join you into something that is naturally whole, so that the two of you are made into one. Then the two of you would share one life, as long as you lived, because you would be one being, and by the same token, when you died, you would be one and not two in Hades, having died a single death. Look at your love, and see if this is what you desire: Wouldn’t this be all the good fortune you could want?’
***
It wasn’t until his father actually said the words that it hit him. “Eugene, I… I’m sorry.”
His eyes didn’t register anything as his father left the room; he couldn’t think past the immediate facts. He wasn’t going to war.
However tiny, there had been a hope that had kept him going, waiting for good news: himself in uniform, ready to serve, along with all his friends, marching to defend his country halfway across the world.
He grabbed his shirt and told himself that he’d known it wouldn’t happen. He’d been sick on-and-off for what felt like his entire life, and his heart had never been the same since he’d been eight. His health would not improve overnight. However, the onslaught of disappointment and shame was too much for him, and he couldn’t keep from hunching into himself and crying. Even in the privacy of his room, though, he didn’t allow himself more than a few moments of silent tears; his family and the house staff were all downstairs and he didn’t want them to see his flushed cheeks or red eyes. It was bad enough that they already knew.
He looked at the ceiling to prevent more tears from falling and fanned his face with his hands, wiping any tear tracks with his sleeves and sniffling. Slowly and deliberately, he started calming his breathing, just inhaling and exhaling as best he could. With his own cloudy feelings dissipating, it didn’t take long before Sid’s sympathy became clearer —him knowing already what today was for Eugene— and he let those positive feelings settle over him like a warm bowl of soup on a winter night, soothing his rickety heart, as they always did when frustration and sadness got the best of him.
Now composed enough to leave the room, he went downstairs, on his way to meet Sid before he left for bootcamp the next day. At the bottom step, though, he stopped at the sight of his father and brother, hovering over the radio, listening to Churchill talk about the resources of the States, Edward Jr. in his army uniform. It only brought these feelings he’d barely wrangled a few minutes ago back to the surface. He couldn’t stand it. All he wanted to do was fight for his home, just like everyone else. Was it so unreasonable?
“You’re eighteen, Eugene, you don’t need your father’s permission,” said Sid, once they met up. Not far away from Eugene’s house was a particular field, bordered by trees, with high grass that covered just about anyone sitting down. He visited all the time, and ever since they’d been nine or ten, Sid had become a frequent guest. They were both heading there, Sid carrying his bike, Eugene leaving his by a nearby tree.
“I can’t go against him, Sid. And… I think he might be right. They won’t take me with my heart as it is.” And he was not getting classified as ‘unfit for service’, that was out of the question.
“No, don’t tell me that,” cried Sid. “That only makes me feel worse.”
Eugene just looked at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I mean. Who gave you that damn murmur in the first place?”
“A car.”
Sid looked back at him like he was being deliberately obtuse, but he wasn’t lying. It had been a car, and Sid had been just as much a victim of that incident. Why he wanted to take the blame for it was a mystery to him. Behind that look, though, Eugene acknowledged the real pain coming from him.
“I won’t blame you for whatever happens, you know?”
Sid only nodded but his heart wasn’t really in it, Eugene knew, like he’d known for the better part of a decade. He focused on all the lovely, wonderful things his friend meant to him, and laughed when Sid looked at him, trying to hide his gratitude behind an unimpressed look.
“Fine, I believe you. Not like I have a choice anyway, do I?”
Eugene just rolled his eyes. “You’ll get your comic strips back if you just do as I say, alright?”
He laughed at Sid’ s expect shove and went forward to their spot in the forest, the afternoon sun painting everything golden.
When they’d been children, Eugene’s nanny—the one who had taught them the word soulmate—had made them sit back to back and breathe at the same time. This had given two restless ten year olds, who constantly wound each other up with unregulated emotions, a good way of focusing solely on each other, on the physical sensations of expanding rib cages, the warmth of a near body, the back of their heads touching, on maintaining the rhythm of their mutual breathing. When they relaxed, they learnt they could let their bond loose, let their feelings flow indiscriminately like they weren’t from two different people. It was only them, floating on a pool of emotions, as they liked to imagine it, neither knowing who was feeling what but knowing this was how it should be.
In stressful times, they would hide in the grass and disappear for hours doing this, which had given their families quite a fright in the past. Now, after so many years, they knew how to reel themselves back from it and go back into their own bodies, so to speak.
Sid dropped his bike before they sat down together on the tall grass. By this point a well-practiced routine, they only needed the physical closeness of a long hug. Eugene opened his arms and welcomed Sid in.
They let the sounds of birds and windswept leaves lull them into a calm, their breathing slowing down together and working in sync, before the floodgates opened.
Like an unstoppable tide, they felt everything going through the both of them: excitement, anger, disappointment, fear, sadness, anticipation, curiosity, pain; their emotions just took them everywhere without a chance to keep their heads above water. It didn’t take long, though, before the current became gentle, set at ease by an overwhelming amount of love, mixing everything together in a very distinctive cocktail.
It must have been after an hour, now with them lying next to each other in the grass, their connection still very much on the forefront of their consciousness, that Eugene took out a book from his jacket’s inside pocket. “Here,” he said and gave it to Sid. “I got you something.”
“Barrack-room Ballads,” said Sid in surprise.
“It’s just if you need something to read on the train or when you ship out.”
Sid smiled sadly. “I wish we were going together.”
By this point, Eugene didn’t even try to hide the shame remembering just a few hours ago brought him —brought them—, but he smiled back at Sid and said “Take care of yourself, old greaser.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Sid said with the guiltiest look he’d ever seen on him, but, if they didn’t stop it now, this not-great mix of negativity from both of them, it would get out of control. Eugene just grabbed his hand and pulled them back into their little comforting pool.
They stayed like that for what felt like forever, unrealizing, letting the motions of their shared hearts carry them away.
Tomorrow morning, Sid would be gone, but at least for now they had this.