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It had been a while since Captain had done a midnight patrol around Button House, but all of the excitement of the day's April Fool's Day pranks had the man on edge. He always found it easier to sleep after securing the property. It was usually a rather boring task but he jumped when he turned the corner into a hallway and was met by a dark figure sitting in the windowsill.
It took only a moment more to realize it was Thomas. It made sense to see the poet at this hour. After years of nightly patrolling, Thomas was always the ghost that Captain was most likely to run into. He rather seemed to be an insomniac, but the two of them never spoke about the interactions.
Thomas hadn't noticed the Captain stride into the hallway, as he looked rather deep in thought while gazing out the window. Against his better judgment, the Captain found himself walking over and clearing his throat to announce his presence.
Thomas snapped his head up to where Captain was standing and for a moment, James couldn't believe his eyes. He didn't even think it was possible for his fellow ghost to appear any different from usual, but the poet looked uncharacteristically terrible. He had clearly been crying.
"Ah, good evening Thomas. What are you doing awake at this hour?" Captain inquired, as if it was not obvious. He felt silly for even asking, bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught of emotions about to pour out of the other man. That he might've accidentally set off Thomas on a 20 minute monologue about his struggles and woes.
He was astounded then when all he heard in return was a quiet, "Nothing. I don't want to talk about it." Thomas was never one to shy away from his emotions or whatever plagued his heart. Something was clearly wrong. Despite every part of him begging to simply nod Thomas off and part ways, the Captain pushed further.
"Are you quite sure, Thorne?" his voice softened as he stepped forward, gesturing to the seat next to Thomas, silently asking if he could join him. Thomas hesitated for a moment before nodding and drawing in his limbs close to his body, as if it would burn if he accidentally touched the Captain.
"Was it the baby?" Captain asked, as the announcement of Alison's pregnancy was the most obvious reason the other man might be upset.
Thomas sighed, "No. I am happy for her truly. Even if it will be a painful reminder."
Captain was not quite sure that he believed him, but still he continued, "So if not that announcement then what has you moping about so late at night?"
Thomas stared down at his lap for a long time before answering, "Well..her pranks. It was the way that she got me today, Captain. It was rather cruel.." Thomas trailed off as if he couldn't believe he was saying such a thing about his beloved Alison. "She set up this wonderful dinner and pretended to return my affection for her. But it was all a rouse." Thomas pulled up his knees to his chest. "Do you think I deserved that?"
The silence between them was thick and Thomas grew hot at being so newly vulnerable to Captain, who he was sure didn't give a damn about him. Truthfully, Captain's first instinct was to tell the poet that yes, he did deserve it. That hopefully he was learning his lesson after following around Alison so incessantly over the years. And yet something in the heartbreak that played on Thomas' face stopped him and instead he responded, "Now that was rather harsh of her. No one deserves to be toyed with like that."
Thomas acknowledged him with a solemn nod but otherwise ignored his response. "You know, sometimes the pain is all encompassing," he said, almost in a whisper. "Over my centuries here there have been times when it hurts too badly and I cannot even begin to use my words to help to soften it. I have often dreamed about ending the pain however possible. Tonight was the same but try as I might, there truly seems to be no way off of this cursed plane of existence."
Captain could only watch in a sad silence. It must have been quite terrible to reduce Thomas to such a state. He thought of how Thomas might have attempted such a thing and his heart dropped. He had always judged the other man as being overly dramatic but it rarely occurred to him that he might have to actually battle with those feelings internally.
"Do you know what it feels like to be abandoned like that?" Thomas continued and his eyes stung as he turned towards Captain, "And the visceral heartbreak that comes with it?"
Captain swallowed thickly as the question lingered. Of course he had. Images of Havers flashed across his mind, and the way he walked out of those gates. He vowed to be buried with that secret—and he had—but as Thomas' eyes bore into his soul, it started spilling out of him like fresh blood from a wound, "Once." Captain chose his next words carefully, not wanting to reveal anything he wasn't ready to, "A long time ago—obviously. It was..they were a friend. We became rather close in the regiment here actually. But then they left me and I am ashamed to say it but it did leave me rather hurt. Er.. heartbroken as you put it"
"Was it Anthony?" Thomas asked.
Suddenly Captain felt as if he was lit on fire and every inch of him was filled with static. He felt his heartbeat in his ears, somehow even louder than it had been the night he had died. Nervous laughter bubbled out of him. "Wh-what, no. That's ridiculous. I most certainly did not mean a fellow soldier."
Thomas stared at him incredulously. That part of Captain's past was not something that was ever discussed within those walls (at least not with the poet), but Thomas had seen it all and hoped this might be the time he would finally open up to him.
He did not want to embarrass the other man by letting on exactly how much of their unsuccessful romance he had witnessed, but he truly did want him to know that it was okay to talk about it. "It's alright Captain. You know I would never judge matters of the heart."
"Well...quite," Captain mumbled in a stupor. He imagined that Thorne would be the last person he would ever confide in about such things and yet something about his earnest gaze stopped him from leaping from his seat and running. "Then yes, it was Anthony," he said, almost too quiet for Thomas to hear. His name felt heavy in his mouth. It was a name that was only ever uttered to his pillow in the privacy of his own room.
"Do you regret it? Do you ever wish you could go back and profess your feelings?" he asked. Captain's mouth went dry once again but Thomas did not wait for a response. "Maybe both of us are destined for an eternity without love."
Captain was sure he didn't mean anything by it, but still his phantom heart skipped a beat. Maybe they didn't have to be.
"I am not sure.. but I can say that you are cared for in this house Thorne."
Tears formed in Thomas' eyes at hearing that. He let out a dry laugh and his words nearly caught in his throat, "I like it when you're like this, warm and caring." Captain was glad he could not see him blush at that in the darkness. Although with the little light that was filtering through the window, he could not help but admire Thomas's beauty in the moonlight. It was as if he was seeing him again for the first time.
Thomas continued then, a bit tenser "It's new though.. You've never liked me or my poems," and Captain's stomach sank. He could understand why Thomas got that impression, but it was entirely untrue. He could not imagine life in Button House without the poet.
He fidgeted with his swagger stick and wished he had the command over English that Thomas did. The best he could conjure was, "Now Thomas, I never claimed to understand your poetry as it were, but that certainly does not mean I don't like you."
Thomas looked genuinely stunned at that, which only broke Captain's heart further. He continued then, "Of course we've rubbed our fair few number of shoulders together over the years but I do consider you a friend," Captain averted his gaze, slightly startled at the feeling that strummed in his chest whenever he looked at Thomas for too long. "And I hope you'd think the same, for this smelly old walrus."
Thomas sighed contently and leaned his head back toward the glass. "I'd say so," he said and the two of them sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence. It was new territory for the two of them—having a conversation as deep as they had. Even being alone together was beyond rare, and yet as they sat in the moonlight, it felt as natural as old friends catching up over drinks.
They enjoyed each other's company for a few more minutes until sleep began to tug at Captain's eyelids. "Well I hope you are feeling better. I best head off now."
He motioned to get up so he could retire for the evening but Thomas reached for his hand before he even had a chance to stand. "James.."
Captain stared down at their hands. Thomas was rarely a touchy ghost, with the Captain or anyone really. Still, there was something in the night air that tempered any strangeness about it. He quickly made a note of how soft his hand was. His slender fingers fit almost too perfectly around his own and he could feel a thin layer of what he realised was fresh blood.
Thomas sheepishly apologized for any mess but did not retract his hand. Instead he squeezed tighter and looked Captain in the eye "I wanted to say, before you went," there was a slight quiver to his voice. "Thank you for your company tonight. I had grown so used to being alone with my thoughts but I appreciated your compassion greatly."
There was Captain's heart traitorously skipping another beat. He squeezed back, just briefly. "Glad to be of service, Thorne," he said but Thomas gave him an almost imperceptible pout at hearing that name and so James corrected himself, "Thomas."
Thomas' expression lifted and he gave him a small smile. He let his hand linger for just a moment longer before pulling it away and back to resting in his lap. He gave the other man a nod, letting him know that he should get some rest. "Goodnight then, Captain," and then parroting what the other man had said, "James."
The Captain could hardly hide his smile at that but he hoped Thomas would chalk it up to tiredness. He finally rose and said "Goodnight," before turning back down the hallway towards his room.
Once he had passed through the door and was certain he was alone again, the Captain took one last look at his hand. A certain warmth lingered and so too did a streak of red. It took only mere moments though before the stain flaked off into dust and any evidence of their interaction had disappeared.
He settled into bed and curiously rubbed his palms together, almost as if he focused hard enough, he still might be able to feel it. While the warmth from his hands had disappeared, he took note of a new one blooming in his chest as he laid his head down to rest for the evening. As he began to drift off to sleep, he wondered if he'd convince himself that this had all been a dream, come morning. He rather hoped not.