#here boy

So it remained throughout the war and the stalag, in the cold where John allowed Gale onto his bed, curled up beside him so their ribs pressed together with every breath. He listened to John’s every scattered, rambling word, snapped at anyone who approached John wrong, trembled whenever John stepped toward the door and left without Gale. He let John shove and kick him in the side until something gave way, then tilted his head into John’s touch that night when it came with a tearful, choked apology. Through the march he remained glued to John’s side, their bodies brushing, looking up at John every few minutes and herding him in line.