Back To The Old House

chapter 8

It took a few days of soul searching for Theodore to gain the courage to write a letter to William. He’d gotten the address from William’s parents on his way back to his barracks, and he’d been valiantly trying to think of the right words to put on paper ever since.

Finally, when he’d found words only half decent eno ugh, Theodore had sent it, and had spent the first thirty six hours anxiously awaiting the response.

“Everett! Sit down, you’re making me nervous!” Snapped Jones, the private who stayed in the bed next to Theodore’s. Theodore had the bed closest to the back wall, thankfully getting privacy and a sense of security from one side.

Theodore looked over at him. He paced when he was nervous, just to do something to get rid of the energy. It didn’t happen often. It scared him how William seemed to hit all the chinks in his armour, the one he had spent the last few years constructing.

He sat down on his bed, laying down and looking up at the ceiling.

“What’s wrong?” Jones asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” Theodore said.

“If it’s got you pacing, it clearly does.”

Theodore sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m waiting for a letter. I’m just hoping it comes.”

“A letter from who?”

“An old friend.” Theodore answered.

Jones frowned at him, looking up from the book he was buried in.

“Anyone would think it’s a girl you’re waiting for.” He said. “At least you’re not like the others, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’ve all got someone to write home to. Some girl or another.” Jones dismissed. “Who’s this friend of yours? I’ve never heard you mention him.”

“You’ve only know me two weeks, Jones.” Theodore pointed out.

“Just answer the question.”

“His name is Will. We were friends when we were younger and lost contact when his father was pulled out of retirement for the Great War.” Theodore explained.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t have bothered.” Jones said, going back to his book. “Too long has passed. It’s not worth it. Have the happy memories and be done with it.”

“Don’t be so cynical. You can be friends with someone from childhood and remain friends when you’re older.” Theodore said.

Jones gave him a disbelieving look. “How much would you like to bet on that?”

“You don’t know me. And you certainly don’t know Will. You can’t pass judgement when you don’t know the ins and outs of the situation.”

Theodore couldn’t help but snap when he spoke. He knew he was being far too defensive for his own good, and possible even slightly suspicious. But this was Will they were talking about.

He didn’t want to entertain the thought that he and Will could not still be friends. After all, had they not gotten along perfectly well a few days ago when they had reunited? Had things not felt wonderfully, perfectly normal?

The only thing he had to worry about was the two kisses that they’d shared. Did that change things now? William hadn’t even been sure when he’d done it.

Did he regret it? Was that why his reply was taking so long?

Theodore wasn’t sure how he felt about it either, if truth be told. He was entirely confused by the situation and had been far too distracted with writing and waiting these last few days to even consider his own feelings and thoughts.