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Swearing 

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Four Months Later

Thunder rumbled through the dark skies, Lightning flashed among the clouds and rain pelted down on your head relentlessly. But you didn't hurry.

You see, unlike passing helicopters and heated arguments, thunder didn't scare you. It didn't bring you back to the past, dark places you didn't want to be. It calmed you. Rain and thunder were one of the only things that could relax you before a big battle or adventure. You looked forward to them, it brought you back to the few good memories you had as a child.

One of the clearer ones was when you were very young, no older than eight, and Jupiter was very angry, for whatever reason. You had been terrified, running behind your mother and clutching the fabric of her dress as if to protect you from the howling storm outside. Your mother had pulled you close and sat down in a wooden chair, sitting you in her lap and tucking your head under her chin, whispering stories of the gods and their upbringings. Tales of the mighty warriors that found Rome. The battles your father and brother won, the land and people they conquered, and you had known right then and there you wanted to be just like them. 

From then on you learned to love the rain, it brought you back to that night, in your mother's arms, when you had loved and been happy.

Even while you were in the trenches, splattered in mud and blood, crawling through the hills, M97 gripped in your slippery hands, eyes squinting through the downpour of cloudburst, you had smiled for the first time in months. The familiar cold, the roar of weather and cracks of thunderbolts in the sky above you reminded you of all those years ago, and while the world tore itself apart, you'd feel safe, just remembering her presence.

It was now almost ten at night, your hair and clothes drenched to the bone, stuck to your frame like a second skin, but you didn't mind much.

Eventually you made it to your small apartment, a rather tall building with many other occupants. Sliding in your key and turning the knob, you made your way up the five sets of stairs that led to your flat, and unlocked that door as well. Shaking your head, water dripped from the ends of your hair, droplets ran down your skin and a puddle formed at your feet as the excess water drizzled from your clothes. You smiled. But only for a moment.

Shrugging off your jacket and shoes, you peeled off the grey shirt and sopping jeans that stuck to your skin, leaving you in just your boxer briefs. Laying your wet clothes over the side of your tub, you pulled on some f/c flannel pajama pants and a black tank top. As you ran a hand through your damp hair, you went to the bedroom, grabbed the duffle bag you've had since 1946, which was in perfect condition.....sorta, and started packing what little you had. Shirts, trousers underwear, socks, leaving only one of everything for you to change into tomorrow. You also packed the bathroom essentials as well as snacks and bottles of water. You didn't know how long it'd be until you settled again.

Why are you moving, you ask? Well, to put it simply, you're scared. 

Arthur had invited you to breakfast or lunch at least once a week over the last few months, sometimes more. You didn't always accept, but you had gone more times than not. 

He was becoming an important person in your life, a father figure if you will, and you didn't want to take those chances, though it seemed a bit too late for that. You planned on going to lunch with Arthur tomorrow and tell him you'd been called in for army deployment, and that you needed to leave as soon as possible. The last part was true, but not for those reasons. A part of you didn't want to leave, but you knew that if you stayed, you'd just end up getting hurt.

𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕀𝕟 𝕒𝕟 𝔼𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪Where stories live. Discover now