Domestic Husbands

Chapter 17

*Callum POV*

I knew of Paul. I knew that he was Ben's ex and that he died in an attack. I knew he worked at the funeral parlor with his grandparents, Les and Pam. That's all really and I can't expect Ben to open up about him. Not that I can get angry at him for that. I know the exact same pain.

Chris. He was my first. Like when Ben and I started, Chris and I hid it. It started with looks while we were cooking in the base, progressing into slight touches on the shoulder, his hands on top of mine, guiding the knives as we chopped onions before he wiped my eyes with his soft but firm hands. Then it became the sneaking out in the night to the empty field with beers and we sat up all night talking, laying across one another, often ending in the early hours with a soft peck on the lips before the sun rose and we would be together in the kitchen again. I wasn't ready for anything more and he knew it. I didn't know what it was. I loved him but couldn't label us.

We were the opposites. Chris was confident in himself and didn't care what others thought. He had the family support I longed for but knew I would never get. On the other hand, me? I had tried too hard to be what my dad wanted and I knew this wasn't it. I had hid my true sexuality for years and would have continued. I could play 'straight'. I had been for my whole life so I was pretty good at it by now. A family like mine..  you get used to hiding what makes you different.

Chris hasn't been taken away from me at first in the same way as Paul had for Ben. I was the stupid one who got injured and put on leave. I got through the leave and the rehab expecting to go back and the thought of them morning kisses from Chris and late night beers accompanied me through my recovery as well as the letters I would receive every so often from him. I just didn't realise that leave would turn into a permanent discharge from the army. That I would never see Chris again.

And then Vicky came a year later and told me the news I dreaded to hear, that's when I knew the pain that Ben felt. Chris had died while on a tour and not only would I never see him again, but I couldn't save him. When I got injured he stayed with me, held me in his arms and kept me taking. Asked me questions to keep me calm. What I had eaten for breakfast that morning and stuff (it was jam on toast), asked about my family, TV shows and films I watched, films we had watched together. All questions he knew the answers too but he didn't mind. He stayed calm and got me the help I needed but now I couldn't do the same. He had been taken away from me for good. No last kiss on the lips as the sun rose behind us. He wasn't there to wipe my tears from my face. The tears I cried for him. And the worst part. I couldn't tell anyone without outing myself and so I hid it. My pain, guilt, emotions, tears, it all got hidden under layers of black suits and hair product and kisses on the lips to Whitney who I pictured as Chris every dam time. Every day for months. I had to be strong but seeing the corps I did everyday working at the funeral parlor and picturing them as Chris broke me.

So I got it. I get that Ben can't open up about Paul. Who am I to push him too either. At least I know of Paul. Ben doesn't even know about my loss, my heartache, my first love. I'm just as bad at opening up about my history as he is.