And All I Did Was Bleed As I Tried To Be The Bravest Soldier - Ch. 72
Ao3
Thursday night, John and Joel were in their room, packing their bags for the weekend. John found himself stealing glances at Joel and smiling to himself.
“You going to keep staring at me?” Joel finally commented with a grin as he zipped his suitcase closed. “Or are you going to come over here and do something about it?”
Laughing, John abandoned his duffel bag to go kiss Joel. “I thought you’d never ask,” he smirked.
Frantic knocking from downstairs made both of them freeze. John turned, heading out of the room and down the stairs with Joel hot on his heels. John unlocked the door before opening it to reveal Victoria, shivering and wet from the rain.
“Vic!” John quickly ushered her inside, guiding her to the couch. He heard Joel close the door behind him.
“Hey, Uncle Johnny,” Victoria greeted with a weak smile as she sat on the couch.
Sitting beside her, John raised an eyebrow. “What were you doing out in the rain?”
“I was takin’ a walk ‘fore it startin’ rainin’,” Victoria explained. Her face dropped and she looked down at the floor. “I… I think a man was followin’ me.”
Joel appeared, offering a towel to Victoria. She took it with a quiet “thank you” before wrapping it around herself.
“What do you mean you think someone was following you?” John asked, concerned.
“I could feel someone watchin’ me,” Victoria said, “And out the corner of my eye, I could see somebody. But whenever I’d look back, nobody was there.”
John didn’t like that. He didn’t like that one bit. “Maybe you should avoid taking walks at night,” he suggested gently, “Just to be safe.”
Nodding, Victoria nodded before tugging the blanket off the back of the couch to cover herself as she continued to tremble.
“You want some hot cocoa?” John offered, already standing, “Something to warm you up?”
“Yes sir, please,” she answered.
John walked into the kitchen, heading straight to the pantry to grab a packet of cocoa mix.
As he worked on making it, Joel walked into the kitchen, a light frown on his face. He leaned back against the counter as he studied John. “So, who is she?” he asked quietly so his voice didn’t carry.
“Her name’s Victoria Cross. She’s my goddaughter,” John answered as he stirred the milk in the saucepan to keep it from burning as it warmed up.
“Cross…” Joel’s frown deepened.
John glanced at him. “Yeah. Why? Do you know that name?” he asked. He shifted his focus back to the milk. Grabbing a ladle, he scooped it through the saucepan and poured the milk from the ladle into the mug he had waiting.
“...I do, actually,” Joel replied quietly.
Frowning, John added the cocoa mix to the milk in the mug before stirring it with a spoon. “How?”
“We’ll talk about it after she leaves,” Joel said, his voice terse.
John raised an eyebrow. “Alright.” Carefully, he carried the mug by the handle before carrying it back to the living room to hand to Victoria. “There you go, Vic.”
“Thank you, Uncle Johnny.” She blew carefully over the edge of the cup before taking a sip.
They sat in a comfortable silence as Victoria drank her cocoa. John kept glancing toward the entryway to the kitchen, but Joel didn’t reappear.
Once the mug was empty, John stood. “Let me drive you home.”
Shaking her head, Victoria jumped up, tossing back the blanket and towel. “I don’t want Momma to see you,” she explained hurriedly, “She’ll get mad at both of us.”
“Then let me drive you a couple streets away, that way you don’t have to walk the whole way in the rain,” John compromised.
Victoria considered this. “Okay,” she agreed.
Walking to the door, John grabbed his keys off the hook that hung by the door. “I’ll be right back,” he called into the kitchen.
“Be safe,” Joel called back.
“Bye, Mr. Joel!” Victoria said.
There was a pause before Joel finally answered, “Bye, Victoria.”
The ride was short. Once John pulled off to the side of the road, Victoria unbuckled her seatbelt. “Thank you, Uncle Johnny. I’ll see you soon!”
“Be safe, Vic,” John bid her with a smile.
Once she was out, John waited until he could see her turn to walk up the driveway of her house before turning around to head home himself.
When he walked into the house, he could feel the tension in the air. Hanging up his keys, he called out, “I’m home!”
The towel was gone from the couch, the blanket folded neatly over the back of the couch once more. John walked into the kitchen to find Joel washing up the saucepan and mug from the hot cocoa. “I’m home,” he repeated quietly.
“Welcome home,” Joel answered stiffly as he turned off the water. Grabbing a nearby dishtowel, he dried his hands before turning to face John. “So, I’m guessing Victoria’s dad is dead?”
“Uh, yeah, he is,” John answered.
Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m guessing his name was Wilbur?”
“How did you know-”
“I’m not stupid, John.” Joel threw the dishtowel on the counter. “Your middle name is Victor, her name is Victoria. You wear the tag of someone named Wilbur Cross. Both he and your mystery military boyfriend are both dead. It’s not that hard to piece together.”
John’s heart dropped. “It’s-”
“It’s what?” Joel questioned as he leaned back against the counter, arms folding across his chest. “You were dating a married man, let him name his daughter after you, and agreed to be her godfather? How can you rationalize any of that?!”
Wincing, John admitted, “It wasn’t right, but people do stupid things when they’re in love.”
“...why do you still wear his tag now that we’re together?”
John could see the hurt on Joel’s face. “I…” he hesitated.
“John, I’m all in on this relationship,” Joel informed him, voice shaking slightly. “I need to know that you are too.”
Taking a deep breath, John pulled off his necklace. It took several seconds of fiddling before he was able to pull Wilbur’s tag off the ring. He pulled the necklace back on before he looked at Joel. His fingers gripped Wilbur’s tag tightly. “I’ll go put it with my other keepsakes,” he finally said, “But I won’t wear it anymore.”
“That’s all I’m asking for.” Joel nodded. “Thank you.”
John left the kitchen, heading up the stairs back to their room. He went to the closet, pulling out an old shoebox. It was filled with letters, dried flowers, and pictures. Taking a deep breath, he dropped Wilbur’s tag into the box before flipping the lid closed.
Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he reminded himself that Wilbur made his choices, he got to make his.
And he was choosing Joel.
