Work Text:
May 1952
Julian sat down in the train, waiting to get out of his father’s grip. The past few months had taken their toll on him, and he tightened his hold on the handle of his cane as he looked out the window and thought of all he was leaving behind.
Ellen.
He hoped their father wouldn’t be too hard on her. She’d only done what she thought was right, after all. Whether or not his father would agree with her, he was always easier on the girls anyway. She would be safe, as safe as anyone was around him.
Tom.
He missed Tom. It seemed like forever since– he didn’t dare think about it.
And yet his mind couldn’t stop going back there.
Back to lying uselessly on the ground, just watching Tom get– he pulled himself away and brought his thoughts out of the past.
He wasn’t quite sure exactly where he was headed, but he knew he was going to David’s place. And hopefully David would let him stay there for a while.
He knew it wasn’t up to David himself, though. It would have to be a family decision, whether they would let his somewhat-friend from school live with them for at least a month, almost definitely far longer.
Julian rolled his shoulders in small, slow circles, letting the tension drop as far as he could. He had money he’d saved from work, before he had to quit because– never mind the why or wherefore, but he had a bit of money. Enough to pay a couple months’ rent somewhere and pay for food until he got a job, should the Lawrences not let him stay.
But they probably would.
At least David didn’t have the threat of the other boys hanging over him now, so maybe he would finally be an actual good friend. At school they’d been friends, of a sort, but David’s brother Ben had threatened him into making Julian do his and his friends’ prep for them, even though Julian detested helping people cheat.
In return for that Julian had been somewhat protected, from those outside Ben’s group of friends at least.
Inside the group was not much better, but at least he knew what to expect. They laughed at him, made him do their work, shoved him around if they needed a target, but mostly they just ignored him unless they needed him.
Julian looked out the window at the countryside going past, and decided to take a nap. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and he would have to have enough energy to walk to David’s once he got to Kembleford, and maybe walk back to the station and get a ticket to somewhere else, he didn’t know where. So he leaned back, rested his cane between his legs, and drifted off to sleep.
He was woken by the dream he’d had almost every night since it had happened. He was there, watching it all happen, and he tried to scream, but nothing would come out.
Julian grabbed for his cane, and found that it had fallen to the floor. He was in the train, he could move, he was getting away from his father, he had survived, he would survive.
Tom hadn’t.
He didn’t deserve to when Tom hadn’t.
He shook himself, picked up his cane, and took out his notebook. There was no use trying to get back to sleep.
Ten pages later, the train was pulling in, and Julian began to collect his things, putting his notebook and pencil back in his coat pocket.
Once off the train, he endeavored to orient himself, going up to the least unnerving person and asking her for directions.
“Lawrences? Oh, they’re just off that way, over the hill a ways,” she said. A rather nice old lady, now Julian thought about it. Maybe he’d see her again.
“Thank you. Good afternoon,” he nodded.
“And the same to yourself.”
He headed off, toward and up the hill, cane hooked over his arm, and by the time he reached the top (what there was of it) he was panting and straining. So he put his bags down and took stock of his surroundings.
A rather interesting looking church.
A hall off over a bit, with surrounding fields and woods.
Houses, farms, a couple pubs, and the station.
That was all he could see from where he was, so he picked up his bags and cane again and set off down the hill.
“Now which house is David’s?” he wondered half out loud.
“You’re looking for David Lawrence?” asked a man coming up the hill towards him, a man with half a leg missing, a crutch, and unruly red-brown hair.
“That I am.” Julian smiled awkwardly. “Friend of his, come to visit.”
“Donald Robinson.” The man made to offer his hand, but realizing that Julian had both hands full, offered to take one of his bags for him.
Julian nodded. “Thank you. The name’s Julian Farrell.”
“Pleasure to meet you. Now, you’re looking for the Lawrences’?”
“I am.”
“Follow me.” Mr. Robinson cut through a side street and brought Julian through a series of twists and turns to a house Julian recognized from David’s description back in school. Not large, but comfortable looking, and very definitely lived in. Julian all of a sudden felt very small and very afraid.
Nevertheless, he set his bag down on the porch and took the one Mr. Robinson had and set it down as well.
“Thank you,” he said again. “I daresay we’ll be seeing each other.”
“We’re very nearly neighbors,” Mr. Robinson chuckled. “Come over anytime and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Robinson, and went away down the street, leaving Julian standing on the porch of the Lawrences’ house– no, not a house. A home. A home in which he was an intruder.
He steeled his courage and rang the bell.
No answer, but he could hear someone running inside.
He rang again.
David opened the door. “Julian? Julian, what are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t take it at home anymore,” Julian shrugged.
“Let me take that.”
Julian followed David inside.
“Wait here.” David left, and came back after around a quarter of an hour, during which time Julian stood awkwardly, leaning on his cane and wishing desperately to be able to sit down. “Mum says you can stay as long as you need to.”
“What about your father?”
“Oh, him? He’s off on a business trip, but he won’t have any problem with it.”
“All right then.”
“Don’t worry, only one flight.” David took Julian’s other bag as well and headed up the stairs. Julian followed, stiff and achy, leaning half on his cane and half on the stair railing. “So what happened? Or would you rather not talk about it?”
“It’s complicated, and I’d rather not talk about it right now, if that’s all right with you.”
“It’s more than all right.” David turned when he got to the door at the end of the hall. “Spare room,” he said by way of explanation, going in and setting Julian’s bags on the floor.
“Thank you, again, for all this.”
“It’s nothing. May help to make up for the way I treated you in school.” David clapped Julian on the shoulder and bounding downstairs whistling.
Julian stood in the doorway of his new room, thinking on all that had happened and all that lay ahead of him.
He decided to take another nap before he unpacked.