i fell in love in 1914 ~ l.s

😖 11 😖

Louis' POV

It's too late. It doesn't matter if I realise, it's too late. I don't process what's happening. Because it isn't, right? This is just a bad dream.

"Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares." Someone says.

I don't care about what anyone says right now. Why do they think they get to interrupt my thoughts? I'm not even listening anyway.

I don't care about any stupid quote right now. Why do they think they can just quote Shakespeare? It's a misplaced quote and it doesn't make any sense to say it at this moment. And, like I said, I'm not listening anyways.

"You once told me that quote, kiddo. I remembered it because reminds me of my wife. Out of all the quotes you've told me, I think about that one the most." The voice said.

I know who it is, I just don't give a shit. I'm not listening anyways.

"Okay, kid, time to get out of it now, you're starting to scare me." They say.

"He's just in shock, leave him be, it's peaceful to have him quiet for once." Someone laughs.

I know who it is, I just don't give a fucking shit.

I know I'm in denial but, again, do you think I give a shit?

The phrase "giving a shit" is actually fucking weird if you think about it, I'll talk about it with Harry later.

Harry

Harry

Harry

And just like that, I snap out of it.

A fucking grenade or whatever the fuck is in a mortar just fell on Harry's trench and exploded, leaving nothing but death and destruction.

I know it's impossible to survive that, but do I admit that? No, I deny, like I always do when I'm scared.

My dad once called me weak for that, I just don't give a shit.

I have to know. I just have to. What if he magically survived? I need to look. Because, if he is... not alive, I need to know for sure. I'll go insane not knowing if he's alive or not.

With that thought, I stand op and climb up the ladder. The Peter and Wendy book is in the inside pocket of Harry's coat that I'm still wearing.

I wonder if he's cold right now, I hope he isn't.

I know how it is to be cold, inside and out, and it's not a nice feeling.

So I ignore the yelling behind me and I start running. I'm going to make sure my Harry is warm.

I also ignore the aggressive bullets flying around my head, trying to take my life away from me. What I'm doing is not anywhere near rational, but I've always been a little unrealistic, haven't I?

I run until I can't see anything except for the wall of dust in front of me.

It's only when I've been standing there, doing nothing but staring at the mist, that I realise I'm an easy target.

But before I can even do anything with that information, a heavy weight falls on me, pushing me down to the ground.

"Are you fucking crazy?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

I want to respond but Paul starts talking again.

"You're such an idiot? What were you thinking? You probably weren't thinking at all. You could've been shot, you will get shot if you continue." He tells me.

"I wont, I've made it this far, haven't I?" i grunt, still laying under the pressure of Paul's body.

"You're a smart boy, but you're not thinking. Even if you make it, they will kill you as soon as they see you."

I open my mouth to say something but then realise that it's a fucking miracle nobody has seen us yet. The dusty cloud probably saved my life, but it only exists because of a grenade that has killed.

"Go back, don't worry about me, I'll be fine." I say trying to force him to leave me.

"Don't do this, kid, it's not worth it." He warns me.

"Bye, Paul." And with those words I get up my feet and run as fast as possible through the cloud of ash and dust, scared to be seen by the enemy.

☽

I magically end up in the trench without dying or Paul following me.

The thing is, there is no sign of death or destruction. There are only supplies and food stored in this trench.

You're telling me that the brits have storage trenches? They're so fucking extra. We just keep our supplies in the normal trenches, where everyone is. Maybe that's not hygienic, and the brits looked a lot healthier and cleaner than we do, but I like to complain about people who have it better than I.

I'm not a very coordinated person, I'm bad with maps and I don't focus on finding the way back home when I'm lost, I just enjoy the adventure. So I'm not even surprised that I didn't end up at the right place.

I'm tired and hungry but this mission is way more important than that. I'm aware that I should be taking this very seriously, and I do, but I'm also enjoying the adventure just how it is.

One half of my brain is scared I won't see Harry ever again, the other half is pretending like I'm living in a fairytale, denying that anything is wrong with Harry.

It's ironic really, I always do this. The one half of my brain is worrying about people I care about, the other half is pretending to be Peter Pan.

Worry will be the death of me if I let the first side take over, so the plan is to be Peter Pan until I find my Harry.

I grab some bread and put it in the inside pocket where the Peter and Wendy book is.

☽

It doesn't take long to find people considering the human species are loud. Too loud in my opinion, and if that makes me a hypocrite, so be it.

Unsurprisingly, they're panicking. Germans are firing mortars like its nothing, but it'll be over soon. The Germans have amazing artillery and military in general but they won't be able to firing this much for much longer.

It feels weird to be in trenches with brits, but they barely notice me. They just ignore me because they're- oh fuck, they're moving dead bodies....

Oh no, I'm not emotionally stable enough to see Harry's body.

Right now, here in the trenches of the enemies, the thought of Harry being alive seems foolish. Especially considering the amount of dead bodies that are being moved.

Suddenly a voice behind me makes me jump.

"Who the fuck are you?"