#chweek2021

“Don’t forget to check under the bed.” Callum speaks again, wrapping a knot in the top of a rubbish bag. “I don’t think there’s anything there, but check just in case.”

A wince escapes Ben’s mouth as he gets on all fours, a cardboard box and a rubbish bag next to him, just in case there’s anything under there. “It’s weird.” He calls out. “Seeing this room so empty. It doesn’t feel like our little space anymore. If I’m honest, I don’t think it’s ever been this empty.” He’s rambling, but he doesn’t care. This is what they’ve done all week, talk about nothing important, occasionally singing along to the radio, as they move everything from one place to the other. He taps his hand across the floor as he speaks and he can’t feel anything. He’s just about to pull his hand free, but his knuckles raps against something. Ben furrows his eyebrows as his words die out and he pulls the object free from under the bed. 

It’s a shoe box. A tatty one at that, with all the edges fraying like it’s been near water at some point. There’s indentation marks over it, folds and creases and it’s clearly old. But the main thing is, Ben recognises it. He recognises it from Callum’s bedroom, the first one they ever unofficially shared together, back in his old flat. 

Ben moves, sitting on the floor, his legs stretching out in front of him and his back is against the bed. The lid of the box is half sliding off, clearly not the right size for it, but this means that Ben can see inside of it. There’s something of a khaki green colour sitting inside. There’s half a moment of silence as he blanks everything else out, the radio turning to just a low buzzing sound, easy to forget about. He takes the lid off, putting it on the floor at the side of him, and he can see what the item is properly. A beret. He smiles fondly, thinking it must be Callum’s, though  he’s never actually seen any photos of Callum in the army before, so he can’t be certain. His finger runs over something of a different material, something more coarse. He turns the beret upside down to see what it is, and catches the name tag inside. Chris Kennedy.

It hits him suddenly, what this box must be. He’s heard about Chris before, but not in detail. He’s never even seen a photo of him. But this must be a place of memories for Callum, and when he looks into it again, he can just about make out some photos and pieces of paper with scrawling handwriting on before the silence dissipates and there’s a dry cough that bursts out from near him.

Ben looks up, inspecting the noise, but he knew before looking what it was. He sees Callum standing in the door frame with a sad smile across his face.

“I’m sorry.” Ben whispers, holding his hand out for Callum to take. 

Callum smiles softly, and takes two steps towards Ben before he reaches out for his hand, entwining their fingers together in a perfect and comforting hold. “It’s fine.” He breathes out and sits down next to Ben, their thighs pressing against one another. “I still think about him, you know? Not all the time, not anymore. But when it’s his birthday or I remember something from the army, I think about him.” 

Ben’s silent for a moment or two, because he knows exactly what Callum’s talking about. “Callum.” He lets out softly, before he’s even thought of what he really wants to say. “You know you can talk to me about him, right? I don’t want you to feel like you can’t.”

Callum turns his face, looking at Ben. He nods, and is just about to speak when Ben continues.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats for the second time in as many minutes.

Callum furrows his eyebrows, because Ben has nothing to apologise for. He squeezes Ben’s hand tightly for a moment, and then when he releases that pressure, he runs his thumb softly over Ben’s skin. “What for?” He asks.

Ben’s looking down at their hands when Callum speaks. He looks up slowly. “I told you that you didn’t know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

That just breaks Callum’s heart. 

After all this time, after everything they’ve been through, Ben still remembers that moment. 

Callum doesn’t even have to think, his body just moves for him. He hugs Ben as if there’s no tomorrow, all warm and inviting and it’s clearly what they both need. Callum just holds on, and Ben holds on even tighter, neither of them wanting to let go. Callum can feel Ben’s heart beating under the touch, a rhythmic thumping that soothes him. He presses a kiss to Ben’s shoulder, and buries his nose into Ben’s neck, the familiar scent of nature and spice hitting him all at once. 

“Did I see a photo of you in the box?” Ben asks. 

Callum lets out a soft chuckle. “I think there are some, yeah.” 

Ben peels away from the hug, desperate to find them. “Can I?” He asks, hands hovering over the box, watching Callum carefully.

Callum nods. “Go on.”

Ben picks out a photo. It’s got creases in the corner where it’s been folded in the past. “Is this Chris?” Ben asks.

Callum smiles softly. “Yeah.” He says, looking at the photo. It’s Chris, sitting at a table, his feet up on the surface and his arms across his body. “I think that was the last Christmas before I came here. We had to cook so much that day, I reckon the next time I cook Christmas dinner it’ll be so much easier, even if you’ve got a huge family.” 

Ben chuckles to himself. “He’s handsome, ain’t he?” He asks, looking up at Callum. 

“You approve?” Callum asks, raising a teasing eyebrow. “He was, yeah.” 

Ben places the photo back down gently, and in doing that, he finds another photo hidden away. 

Callum eyes go comically wide as Ben pulls it free. “Oh God.” He lets out under his breath, but Ben catches it.

“Nice hair.” Ben chuckles out, running his thumb over the picture. It’s Callum in his army fatigues, arms behind his back, standing up pin straight with a cheeky grin on his face. It’d be a nice picture, if his hair didn’t look like that. “No wonder you don’t show me photos from before I met you.” 

Callum rolls his eyes and pushes Ben teasingly. 

Ben’s fingers begin to dance over Callum’s chest, careful fingertips gliding up and down and from left to right, alerting him that Ben’s completely awake again.They’re lying in comfortable silence for a while, just touching and feeling and being in each other’s orbit; the sole focus of the other’s silent attention.

Goosebumps are breaking out on Callum’s arms as Ben’s fingers continue to run over his skin, sending shivers down his spine. He almost wants to put his shirt back on, pull the covers up around them, but he doesn’t want Ben to stop touching him. He never wants him to stop.

“Can I ask you something? About your scars.”

Ben’s voice is soft and careful and the slight clearing of his throat he does to get rid of the scratch that comes from lengthy disuse perfectly masks the slight intake of breath Callum does at the question.

They’ve never talked about them. Ben hadn’t asked any questions when he’d first seen Callum without a shirt on, he had only glanced at them briefly before focussing back on Callum’s face, watching out for any sign of discomfort or unease. At the time, he had been thankful if a little surprised about it; he hadn’t been ready to talk about all that with Ben just yet.

Taking your clothes off in front of someone else is different than being naked on an emotional level.

Since then though, whatever this unlabelled thing that’s going on between them, has changed. It has become deeper and more meaningful. They have spent a lot of time talking about his childhood, about what made him feel like he had to hide himself away for this long. He told Ben about Chris and Ben in turn opened up even more about Paul. But the Army, especially his last tour, still felt too raw, too hurtful, to get into.

Ben had seen some of it, had seen him at his lowest that day in the rain on the swing, bottle poised to bring only temporary relief, but it’s still hard to open himself up to him fully. To tell him about the other demons haunting him.

It’s nice the way it is right now, getting to know each other without the looming threat of someone finding out or shame burning in the back of his throat. It feels good; right. And Ben doesn’t put any pressure on him to say or do anything he doesn’t want to. He seems to be content in just being with Callum, listening to him ramble on about whatever and share his life with him as well.

It’s what makes him certain he can trust Ben with this as well; that he can be honest about what he’s been through and not have Ben feel any differently about him afterwards. Ben understands him so well, understands a lot of things Callum never thought someone else could, and he just has to look down at Ben’s side to see that circular wound that tells him he’ll understand this as well in some way.

Looking at Ben always makes him remember he’s not alone in the world anymore. He has someone by his side who makes him not feel so lonely anymore.

“Okay.”

The word rushes out of his mouth in almost a whisper. The world around them feels so delicate encased in darkness and silence - the right atmosphere to spill secrets to your lover. He doesn’t want to break the spell around them.

“Are they from your time in the Army?”

Callum knows it’s just a question of courtesy, an easy way to lead into this heavy conversation. Ben knows a lot about scars, he has a lot of them himself; visible and hidden underneath, he can definitely tell they’re not old enough to stem from a turbulent childhood.

He subconsciously tightens the arm he has around Ben’s body and he gets a response in Ben digging his fingers into his chest, blunt nails pressing against his skin in silent reassurance.

He feels good around Ben and Ben has never told him he’s anything less than beautiful, but it takes time to believe it; to unlearn the harsh voices in his own head and accept kindness when it’s given to him.

“Mhm. I got hit with shrapnel from an explosion. I- We saved this boy but we couldn’t save his mum. I still think about him, that boy. It’s all I think about when I see this.”

He vaguely gestures down to his stomach, expecting Ben to follow his hand with his eyes, but he stays focussed on Callum’s face, listening intently. Callum can’t bear to keep their gazes locked though. It’s too much right now. Those old doubts keep streaming back into his head; the voices telling him that he isn’t worthy of all this softness and support from Ben.

“They just remind me that I’m broken, you know. Damaged goods.”

Ben’s hand leaves the skin of his chest and runs up to his face, his other one joining to turn Callum’s head down towards him, forcing him to make eye contact.

“Hey. They don’t make you damaged, they make you brave. A survivor. See, this?”

Ben’s hands leave Callum’s face to come together between their bodies, balancing his weight on his elbow to remove the big, clunky ring sitting on his left ring finger. He turns his hand around, the back facing up at Callum, pointing at the scarred skin where the black ink of his tattoo used to sit.

“This don’t mean I’m broken beyond repair. This means I survived the worst thing that ever happened to me. There’s proof of it, inside and out, yeah, but I’m still here. Our past doesn’t have to define us; we can just accept it and learn to live with it.”

He pushes the ring back onto his finger, his hand running back down Callum’s chest, a smooth fingertip gliding gently over the elevated skin and harsh lines lining his stomach; never prodding or pinching, only feather-light brushes against tissue.

He’s always so careful with Callum. Whether it’s his feelings, his boundaries or his body, Ben treats them like they’re precious things not to be disturbed. Like priceless treasures in a museum. It makes Callum breathless sometimes; the realization that he has found someone who makes this whole process of finding and being himself so easy and without any pressure sending his already too-attached heart into a wild rhythm.

“These scars don’t make you any less beautiful, you know. Don’t be ashamed of them.”

Ben’s voice is unwavering; tone sure and steady. Callum believes that every word he says is true to him. He might not believe it himself, but he’s sure Ben does.

He’s never had this. Sure, Whitney’s complimented him from time to time but he’s never had someone so openly tell him he’s pretty on the outside, not just that he’s a nice guy or that he has a good heart.

More than that, he’s never had a man tell him this. A man, he’s so interested in that it makes him dizzy with it sometimes. Dizzy and brimming with barely suppressed want. He’s never gotten the fascination before. He wasn’t one of those teenage boys who kissed a girl for the first time and never wanted to stop doing it afterwards - in hindsight, it’s blatantly obvious why as well. But with Ben it’s exactly like that. He wants to kiss him all the time. He wants to be kissed by him all day.

“Thank you. For saying that, for understanding.”

“No need. I’ll always be up for complimenting your bod, babe.”

Soft laughter fills the quiet air around them, Callum squeezing the skin of Ben’s neck where his hand is running up into his hair. As nerve-wracking as it was to open up to Ben that bit more, he’s glad he did it.

Ben is special. What they already have is special. Callum is sure of it.