Hiiiiiii Iâd like to request some Babe angst please đđ
Okay, for the record I would like to state that this emotionally killed me and I must have cried the whole time while writing it. I used prompt 57.âYou say youâll stop, but then you keep doing it!â
Warning: This is pure angst and tears and not to ruin it, but there isn't a happy ending so if that isn't your thing, please don't read.Â
All request are open for fics, headcanons, and ships đ
Taglist: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @teenmagazines @curraheewestandalone @liebegott @vintagelavenderskies @inglourious-imagines @happyveday @easy-company-tradition @sydney-m
After you came home, Babe was different; you were all different. Everything you once knew was different. Nothing was how you remembered it, everything feeling a little off somehow. It was like stepping back into an alternate time or place where all familiarity was tossed aside and replaced with a permanent feeling of being lost.
He grew distant and trying to get him to talk was hopeless. One minute you were as close as could be and the next he had built walls so high it was impossible to break through them. All efforts to get him to open back up had failed, and it wasnât from a lack of trying, so he left. You didnât know where he went, and he didnât make any effort to tell you. In the beginning it was for a short few hours, then it became a whole day. Before you knew what happened, one day became many, and then days turned into a week, until finally, he was gone completely.
He was there and suddenly he wasnât. He had only taken a few personal items, leaving you with nothing but a goodbye note and silent house. The note itself was brief, nothing but his scrawly writing that was quickly written as a sort of afterthought. He left little and no information, no indication of when he would come back and certainly no definite reason as to why he left. The lack of clarity and explanations caused your thoughts to run wild and it made simple day to day activities difficult as your mind was plagued with nothing but Babe.
Trying to sleep at night was like falling through a void but never hitting the bottom. The harshness of the fall never came, and that was somehow worse than anything. It led you to become numb somehow, the falling feeling washed over you like a wave in a stormy ocean of uncertainty. It must have been three weeks before he came back. It might have been longer or shorter than that, but you couldnât be sure. You lost track of time as the days rolled into one. All you knew was that when he did finally return, it was with a soft turn of the front door handle.
âYou can't keep disappearing whenever you feel like it.â The sound of your voice broke the stillness, causing Babe to get a fright, he wasnât expecting you to be sitting there. Your attention remained fixed on the piping hot mug of coffee in front of you, watching the steam rise and dance in random patterns. They were easy to see; the house was always that bit colder when it was just you around. Babe was always the heat source of the house as the radiators didnât do a great job. âYou say youâll stop, but then you keep doing itâ
Time after time after time he had repeatedly kissed your face while promising that he wouldnât do it again, and that it was the last time he would do it. You wanted to believe him, you really did and maybe that is why you chose to put on your rose coloured glasses and ignore the deep crack in your relationship. There was no communication whatsoever, and it was taking a great toll on both of you.
âYou have to talk to me, Babe.â Despite the whisper that was your voice, Babe heard you, you know he had. He stopped walking like he tripped on nothing other than the air beneath his feet. He didnât let the unexpected stumble stop him from doing what he came to do. However, he did hesitate. His original plan had centred on you not being home, he couldnât avoid you any longer.
âDo you want me to say it?â Babe never raised his voice and certainly not at you. His tone was one you didnât recognise, and it scared you. Everything he had been feeling could be clearly heard. You knew what was coming, when he bothered to look in your direction it was a glance and nothing more. Each time you miraculously managed to catch his eye there was a hint of resentment, as if it was your fault he couldnât settle. âYou remind me of everything. Every time I look at you all I can see is death.â
There it was, the one thing you never wanted to hear him say. To make it worse, you knew it was true. You had been a medic during the war and you always felt like Death was hanging around you waiting for any opportunity to claim another victim. Being at home didnât make the feeling go away, and you still felt the constant weight pressing down on your chest.
The confession was honest, but that didnât make it hurt any less. His words sliced through you. The sharp feeling in your chest was no doubt the feeling of your heart shattering into a million and one pieces. Maybe it was easier to blame you, to make you responsible for the ache in his soul. It was your fault his friends didnât get the chance to come home and to experience a life without war. It was your job to save them but more times than not, you failed.
A staring match ensued. It wasnât one of angry looks, more like who would be the first to look away, who would be the first to admit defeat? You couldnât answer him, there were no words. Not a single word, or sound, could make its way from your dry throat to your lips. Nothing could have changed the shocked expression on your face, jaw hanging slack in surprise at his honesty.
Babe took a few steps backwards before turning fully, heading into the bedroom, using your silence as a way out of the situation. You stayed silent while trying to listen to what he was up to. His footsteps paced the room going from one side to the other with the occasional closing of a drawer. The sound of zips and clothes hangers being thrown around the room filled your ears, and with it your eyes welled up. Quiet warm tears fell from your eyes and the longer he was in the room, the more tears that fell. Everything burned, your eyes from crying, your throat from the dryness and the few sobs that broke free. You try to muffle them, hands covering your mouth praying it was enough to keep them from escaping.
When he came back into the kitchen, Babe placed his bags onto the ground beside him. The wretched feeling you had tried to bury deep within your stomach rose up. The blistering feeling got worse, mostly from the realisation that this was the end. Your sobs became louder and you couldnât deny them anymore. You accepted that using your hands as some sort of barrier wasnât going to enough anymore, so you used them to cover your red face and bloodshot eyes. The tears were falling like waterfalls now, crying like you have never cried before.
âStay, please.â You sounded pathetic, begging him not to go. You didnât care because you knew if you didnât say it now, you wouldnât get another chance to and living with that regret isnât something you were prepared to do. In that spilt second, you were prepared to do anything and everything to convince him not to go. If he had of wanted, you to walk for ten thousand steps while balancing a book on your head and holding a chicken you would have. You pleaded with him again, hoping your voice would come out stronger and more convincing. âPlease, Babe, donât go.â
It wasnât fair asking him to stay and you knew that, but it didnât stop you. He couldnât stick it and you accepted that, yet it couldnât stop your world from falling apart in front of you. It was like trying to catch water with a sieve and expecting it to fill up.
If he stayed, he would wither away until nothing was left but a man that could feel nothing but anger and sadness while you got to feel like you achieved something by convincing him to stay. The resentment that would fester in his heart towards you would do no good for anyone. On the other hand, if he went, you would never be able to fill the void he left while he would hopefully learn how to heal. It was a catch 22, no ideal situation, no outcome in which both you would get what you wanted.
â'm sorry.â Babe shook his head. He needed to go, he had to go for his own sake. His apology was poignant, and while you could tell he meant it, it was also indifferent. It was all you needed to finally realise that all the love he once had for you was replaced with coldness, all romantic emotion was gone.
Crossing the room, he pulled on your wrists moving them from your face and tugged you towards him. You both hesitated, not knowing whether a hug was acceptable. It lasted for a fleeting moment, ending before you could fully relax into it. Perhaps it was just as well, he would be gone once it ended and who knows when, or if, you would ever see him again. On the other hand, you didnât want your last few minutes together to be ones you would regret for not holding him tight or long enough. You wanted to remember him forever, no matter how crappy things ended.
You let your arms fall to your sides, Babe moving backwards to pick up his bags. You didnât want to watch him physically walk out the door, watch him walk away from you, but you couldnât look away. With eyes fixed on his every move, you saw how there was no hesitation within him. He had made up his mind, yet his hand was shaking as he opened the door. By the time you had blinked, he was outside and gone, door clicking behind him for the very last time.
