Gay Oneshots

The Day the World Fell Apart

(A/n there will be spelling mistakes. Tis all fluff ...well till a certain part. Have fun my child.)

Most stories start simply with a hi or a story of a day or a month of a year of someone's life. My story is not so simple though and those don't seem like ways to start it that would be powerful enough. Words that have meaning is what this story needs, not words scribbled down in the middle of the night. Words thought out but within seconds so they're true and not clouded with judgment. So let me start at the beginning. Dates aren't important but let's just say this was in my youth. I'm an old man now, ninety-six and probably dying soon but I'm here for now and I want you all to know about the man who turned my world upside down and the day that it fell apart. It was during WWII, classic I know but that's what this story is. At first anyway. I had grown up in a small town in the Midwest surrounded by cornfields and cows. I wasn't happy with my life and at the ripe old age of 17 I already wanted to die. I have to do everything, no one loves me, the whole world is in pain, and I-. Was what I had been writing on a piece of paper on that early summer day when my thoughts were interrupted by my mothers voice saying, "River GET YOUR ASS BACK TO THE FIELDS AND PLOW MORE HAY! IT WON'T PLOW ITSELF YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!"
Oh and by the way I forgot to mention my name. It's River. I remember I had just huffed in response to my mothers nagging as I walked into the kitchen where she was cleaning eggs that she had collected from the chicken coop and my father was reading the newspaper at the table with updates of the war. Before I had even got out the door he grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him looking me sharply in the eyes with a gaze that would make most people break down and said, "Next time do what is expected of you without your mother even having to ask. She has it hard enough dealing with your shit all day." and roughly pushed me out the door. That was a good day. On the bad days I would have bruises covering me from head to toe and my father would be picking up my light body and hitting me to the ceiling and across the room. I knew I had to get out of there so I did the only thing I could. I ran all 3 miles to town and signed up for the army. I didn't have any idea how bad the war really was but I didn't care either. If I died at least I was one less person for the government to worry about. Although I doubt they even care about us...no one cares about me. I didn't have any friends and girlfriend!? Ha that's funny no girl would even look at me.
Next I knew it had been a week and I was on a train headed to some camp where they teach new recruits how to handle weapons and all I had with me was a brown shoulder bag that held a change of clothes, a toothbrush, hairbrush, a paper and pen to write even though it's not like I have anyone to write to, and my favorite possession. My camera, I loved photography but my parents would make fun of me saying it wasn't real work. My parents hated me, they had better kids. I was just their work horse disappointment...they didn't even say bye to me...
I walked into the camp, everything was a blur. I didn't know what I was doing. I wasn't made for war and just as I was about to make a fool of myself having a panic attack as they showed me to my barrack I stopped in my tracks looking at a man about my age sitting on the bunk below the one they said was mine. He looked like he was made for war but also looked sweet as he hung up pictures of friends and family on the wall above his bed but below mine. He looked like the main character of a book. A manly face with a perfect sharp jawline, bushy eyebrows, a nose that's not too big or small, a muscular but not overdone body, and tanned skin but somehow still feminine with a face prettier than Marilyn Monroe's.
The officer pushed me forward and said, "You can set your stuff down now."
"Right right," I said casually snapping out of whatever trance I had been in and as I set my stuff down he looked up at me.
He smiled with a slight smirk and said, "New?"
"Yea..." I mumbled shyly. I wasn't used to people actually talking to me.
"Same, well sort of. I've been here about a week still not settled in though with the amount of training we have to do," he said confidently with a smooth voice almost like honey.
"Oh...uh ok," I said stupidly. Don't ask why I said that. I'm aware it was not an intelligent response but I'm not very good with people.
"Maybe I can help show you around? I don't know how much help I'll be but it doesn't seem like you'll be talking to anyone else anytime soon," he had mocked but in a kind way.
"Ok sure, uh I'd like that," I remember I finally got a good response to his words that never stop flowing.
"Oh by the way my name is Atlas." Atlas, I thought it was a weird name when I first heard it but now it's my favorite name because it holds his face with it.
"Mine's River," I added and saw him look out the window noticing the sun starting to go down.
"Nice to meet you River. Well I better be getting some sleep and I suggest you do too. Long day tomorrow you'll have to try to keep up," he said chuckling.
"Thanks for the heads up," I retorted and laid down feeling the bunk sink beneath me and before I knew it I was asleep.