To the Sea, my friends-

“I am certain it wasn’t.” She smiled softly, finding the way the man blushed endearing in an odd way. A naval man who was a bit bookish, it was pretty quaint in a way. Though as she studied him, she took in a few more details, he was young, likely a bit younger than herself, though not by much. But she tuned into his eyes, how bright they were, much like the seas he likely sailed. Yet, she knew of the growing tensions between the English and Americans, even this long after the war of Independence. 

Rebecca rose a brow as the man fumbled over his words, her hands finding themselves clasped neatly before her. As she regained her resolve, her eyes fell onto the exposed wrist, taking note of how the timer seemed to have faded. The woman kept silent for a moment as she mulled over her response, given it was a simple answer, but one she had found herself wary of revealing. Afraid to if she was quite honest. Love, soulmates, they were things that caused many complications. Complications that she rather not have.

Yet all the same, she looked down at her sleeve before neatly folding up part of it to reveal a just as barren wrist. “Yes,” she whispered while avoiding his eyes. 

The woman was hard to read at the very least. She just looked up at him, eyes unreadable, hands clasped in front of her. He knew quite well that there were still bad feelings between their countries, but America was neutral for now, which was all that mattered to him. And, well, he was a romantic at heart. He liked the idea of finding his soul mate. But he also wanted it to work, wanted her to be happy with the arrangement, too.

And those lovely dark eyes, eyes that gave nothing away. No hint of happiness or otherwise. Which was unnerving at the moment.

A yes.  Oh good!  Kelly led the way across the small yard and up the back steps into his kitchen. “Guinness cupcakes and Bailey’s frosting.” He declared, so very glad he’d done all his dishes last night.  He rummaged around in his cupboard and pulled out a pair of well kept (but mismatched) saucers.  Setting them on the counter, he opened the microwave and pulled out a plate piled with cupcakes. “Guinness to drink?” he offered the other man, going over to the fridge.   

“Streets aren’t bad yet.  But I think I heard that they’ll pull the plows in a few hours, so anyone wants to get out better do it while the getting is still good.” He took a pull from his own coffee. “I all ready called my class for later. Get ‘em home early while its still driveable.” He glanced out Clayton’s window.  Yep, still snowing. “Speaking of driveable….if you don’d mind my being nosy, you going to be okay in this?  You have very far to go?”

@ofjustinian

“Hm?” Thomas turned his eyes away from the snow to look over at the other teacher, nodding slowly. Canceling class was probably a good idea, he should likely do the same. Going back over to his desk, he searched among the papers for his phone, taking a few minutes to navigate it to his email and send out the alert to his evening classes. 

“Oh good.” Kelly said with a smile. “C’mon, its inside.” he waved the man over. “I made a batch of Guinness cupcakes this morning and while I think they’re pretty tasty, I’d like an outside opinion.”  

R E A L. Ioan’s ailing mind was incapable of forming coherent thought processes, thus that lone word repeated itself over and over again - like a disbelieving, yet desperate mantra as his arms rose to coil tightly about Thomas’ waist. As his fingers tangled wildly in the wool of his coat.. he was so afraid that if he didn’t cling to Thomas with every bit of strength he could muster, he would vanish. He would be gone again, and he would N E V E R come back. Tears stung viciously at Ioan’s eyes once more, prompting him to bury his face in the Surgeon’s neck so he wouldn’t have to see them fall. ( What was he supposed to say? What was an acceptable reaction to this moment? Anger? Venom? Bitterness? Frigid indifference?? – If so, Ioan was utterly incapable of treating Thomas so wretchedly.. he couldn’t even fathom it. Not ever. Not Thomas. ) ❝ Peidiwch â gadael i mi eto, ❞ He pleaded weakly as he found just enough strength to tighten his hold on the Surgeon ever so slightly. ❝ Peidiwch â gadael i mi eto.. peidiwch â gwneud i mi golli i chi ddwywaith. Os gwelwch yn dda, ❞

He held the other man to him, gentle but firmly enough to keep them pressed together. To keep him close. Ioan was just so thin, so small. He looked like he hadn’t eaten since Thomas had gone away, and the surgeon - former surgeon, he reminded himself - couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for that. It was his fault that Ioan had suffered. 

A hand stroked his back gently, trying to soothe him, trying to reassure him, but he knew it was inadequate. What could he say or do to ever help ease the pain he’d caused?