Homesick (a That's Not My Neighbour fic)

Talk To Me

//Tw: there is talk of traumatic scenes in this chapter, you have been warned//

"What's eating ya?"

The question echoed in Francis' mind, rattling the milkman even more as he gazed down into his cup, filled with the still-steaming mahogany liquid.
A distorted, rippling reflection stared vacantly back at him from the inside of the cup. But that only made things worse.

His vision of the reflection distorted and warped, and before he knew it he was back where it happened.
Back in the street, with the smoke billowing from all directions, screaming from all sides that should have deafened him but failed to do so. He could almost taste the bitter ash on his tongue, and the scent of blood and burnt rubble was too heavy, too much to just ignore.
It made him feel sick to his stomach, and he could feel himself tremble.

He had to move. He just HAD to do something!!

He had to-

"FRANCIS!"

The milkman felt his body jolt as he was forced back to reality, coming face to face with a worried looking Henry who was holding Francis' mug of coffee so it wouldn't spill.
He could see the brown streaks on the side, a few droplets having hit the table without warning.
Thankfully, none got on his pristine white clothes or the bandages on his palms.

"Mmmm....w-what? what happened there?" Francis asked, sounding as if he'd woken from a deep sleep.

"You were trembling like a fly caught in a web, buddy," Henry said sympathetically, "it was a wonder you didn't burn yourself or faint. Is everything ok?"

Francis couldn't help but hesitate.
He looked down at his bandaged hands, lips pursed so he didn't cry out or immediately confess.

No, everything was NOT alright....and he wasn't sure if it would be.

"I....no....." Francis' voice quivered, and he felt his tired eyes burn and prickle with tears.
He hated that feeling. He hated feeling weak because of this, and he hated that his emotions were spilling over so easily.

"No, everything is not ok...." he replied, as tears brimmed in his eyes.

"Whoa, hey. Wanna talk about it? you can take all the time you need" Henry gently encouraged; he wasn't one to be nosy, but he could tell Francis had something to get off his chest. The quiet milkman looked uncharacteristically pained, and Henry felt a pang of guilt in his heart for even asking in the first place.
"Even if you don't, that's alright as well. You can stay in here as long as you need to collect yourself, alright?"

"I-I dunno....it's hard to explain..." Francis started.
"It...it's been a whole year.....I thought I'd forget, but...." he trailed off.

"A year?" Henry asked dumbly, though his voice was still soft and comforting.

Francis nodded slightly, wiping a stray tear from his cheek and looking back at the doorman.

"Y-yes. It's been a whole year since I moved here. And since...well, it's a long story..." Francis replied hesitantly, met with a kind look from the man across from him.

Henry nodded sympathetically, setting the mug back on the table and taking a hold of his own. He took a sip, letting the warm fluid slip down his throat, the heat sending goose bumps rippling up his bare arms.
He lowered the mug from his lips and emitted a soft exhale, placing the mug on the table carefully. The ceramic outsides of both mugs came together with a soft 'tink!', but just barely.

"Well, as you know it started a year ago" Francis reminisced, the pain in his heart still there as he recounted the events, memory by haunting memory.

"I once lived in a place just out of town. Wife, two kids, seemed like the perfect life. I loved her and she loved me, the kids and I were close as could be. It was everything I dreamed of" he said, with a soft fond smile at the fleeting visions; his son playing hoop and stick in the garden, while his daughter sat on a picnic blanket on the lawn with her dolls. He could feel the touch of his beloved wife on his upper arm, and hear her soft warm giggle that would make any angelic choir jealous of the sound.

"Sounds like a wonderful time" Henry's voice floated through the air, mingling with the milkman's nostalgic memories.

"Yeah...it truly was..." Francis mused.

"Until the reports and signs started showing up. First there were missing posters, then reports of deaths of people in and out of the town, then the DDD logo began showing up here, there and everywhere. And before we all knew it, the logo and the propaganda posters were everywhere, telling us to watch out for dopples and to not trust anyone...it was so hard to bear some days, but what made it all ok was having my family by my side.
My son, Toby, was a rambunctious little scamp, so when the restrictions came it was hard for him to not break the rules and sneak out.
Although my daughter, Linda, she was a little more on the quieter side so she stayed with me and her mama.
Angie, my wife, was always doing what she could to make things at least somewhat bearable. But then......" his chest tightened and he felt his mouth go dry, his pupils shrinking in sheer distress.

"Then what?" Henry gently coaxed, watching the milkman's thousand yard stare as he continued to recount what had happened.

"The dopples appeared....one by one...I-I couldn't stop it. If I had been there faster, maybe-" he felt himself go silent.

He could still remember everything so clearly as it unfolded right before his eyes. He could smell the sickening stench of cooked flesh and burning rubble, he could see the black smoke trailing up and up towards the heavens while the red inferno heated his skin from a distance. He could hear his dearest wife's screams of his name, his daughter's sobbing, and his son calling out for Mom and Dad as he tried to fight off the ones breaking into their home.

Francis ran to the house, and had begun fighting any dopple within reach, only for one to gain the other hand, slithering a slimy tentacle around his throat and constricting him. He had begun to black out, despite still trying to fight. He barely even felt his back collide with the crumbling wall.
All he could do was reach out, towards the flames, and stare in sorrow and despair while the screaming shadows fell prey to those monsters, before darkness overtook him.

He wasn't sure why the dopples even spared him in the first place. For mental torture? were they planning to come back and finish him off?
He had no idea in the slightest.

"It all happened so fast. In the blink of an eye, everything I'd worked for, everything I wanted in life, it was all ripped away from me. My family never stood a chance...." he concluded the memory with a shaky intake of breath, hands clenched on his lap so he didn't break down. At least, not yet.
It had all been too much for some time now, especially on today of all days, and it felt good letting it out. But at the same time it still made him sick to his stomach every time he thought of the event.

Henry stared in sympathetic disbelief, his heart shattering at the sight of a tearful, trembling Francis. He so desperately wanted to say something; to comfort him, to tell him that it was going to be ok.
But deep down, he knew it wouldn't be ok.

Not for a long time.

All he could do was reach out a hand, setting it on Francis' wrist softly -prompting the milkman to look at him with terrified eyes- and letting each other's warmth travel from skin to skin.
Under his palm, Henry could feel the milkman's pulse racing. Fast beats of life triggered by the trauma he was mentally re-living.
He sighed softly, removing his hand much to the silent protest of Francis, only to walk around the table towards the couch and taking a seat next to Francis, a sad look on his face.

Before Henry could even register what was happening, he was tackled back against the armrest by a blue of black and white.

He looked shocked, feeling himself go steady once more, squished up against the corner of the couch, only to fully realize that Francis had tackled him into a tight embrace.
Hearing the other man's snuffles and feeling tears drip onto his shirt, Henry's heart broke even more.

All he could do for Francis was just hold him.

Not say anything, or challenge anyone.

Just hold him and be a comforting presence.