Status: Active; some quick updates and some slow.
So Long, Marianne.
It's Hard to Believe We Ever Lived Apart.
“But who do you think Clara would be?” I asked for the thousandth time. Shelly shook her head.
“I don’t know. Maybe she was a nurse. Or a lunch lady or a boot camp lady or a camp follower or something. The possibilities are endless! Why must you always assume the worst?” Shelly slammed her glass down and glared at me.
“Ok, so maybe she could be one of those things. But she could also be a prostitute! Y’know the kind I’m talking about, those camp following whores looking for money and hooch.” I spat; I had an image of this Clara person as a prostitute with big hair and short skirts and ripped tights.
“I highly doubt that Will would have sex with any of those whores.”
“But –” Shelly clamped her hand over my mouth.
“Stop! We know Will and we know he wouldn’t, so don’t worry!” She said reassuringly.
“How are you so sure?” I knew I was being difficult, but I had my mind set on Clara and Will.
“Because I know,” She was getting frustrated with me, so I stopped myself from saying ‘Maybe the old Will wouldn’t do anything.’ “Anyway, let’s get working on these name cards.”
“Oh my God, your wedding! I almost forgot! I’m so sorry! With everything that's been going on -”
“It’s ok,” Shelly laughed. “I understand.”
“No it’s not!”
“Just shut up and help me ok?” Shelly laughed again, grabbing my arm and leading me into the living room.
*
Will’s POV
Ugh
I’ve never felt worse in my entire life, ever. Not any time during the war or even before that. Death seemed to pass me by a couple days ago, and consciousness was unavoidable. I’d been sleeping dreamlessly, which I guess was a good thing. Images from the war had been haunting me while I was still in it, I’d imagine they’d be worse now that I’m out. My whole body was twitching and my eyes were itching to open. There was a pain in my hip, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as before.
The smell of vanilla attacked my nostrils and I heard soft giggling from downstairs. I opened my eyes slowly, trying to recognize where I was through watery eyes. The ceiling facing down at me was white, but not as white or blinding as the other one the last time I got up. The walls were a dull white also; the blanket covering me was blue, thick and familiar. I looked quickly around the room, noting the small dresser with my pack on it, the chair next to the bed and I realized where I was. I tried to sit up, grabbing the sheets.
“MARIANNE!” My voice was raspy, but much louder than I’d intended. “MARIANNE!”
The voices downstairs stopped and were replaced with something I couldn’t hear. I opened my mouth to yell again, but the yelling was actually really obnoxious. The door opened and there she was; all brown hair and bright green eyes and perfect body. She was next to me in a few paces, wrapping her long arms around me, practically sitting on my lap.
“Will,” her voice was thick with emotion, “Will, are you really…?” Her voice trailed off in an adorable way.
She leaned back a little, running her hands through my dirty hair. Tears were staining her pink cheeks; I wiped them away with my thumb. In that moment, I desperately wanted to wrap her up in my arms and kiss her soft lips. She let out a laugh, rubbing her eyes and hugging me again.
“I don’t believe it,” she whispered onto my neck. “I’m not dreaming am I?” Her big green eyes were staring up at me, shining with emotion.
“You’re not, I promise.” I smiled. She pulled herself off me (much to my disappointment) and straightened out her dress.
“So,” She let out a breath. “I’m just so happy to have you home! And awake! Do you want something to eat? Or to drink? You must be hungry!” Her hands were twitching with excitement. She was so cute, God.
“Um,” my throat was suddenly dry. “Can I have some water?”
“Yeah, of course, of course!” She was fidgeting. “I’ll be right back!”
She pulled open the door and I laid back again. I heard her soft giggling out in the hall and smirked to myself. I wanted her to be mine and there was no denying that.
“I don’t know. Maybe she was a nurse. Or a lunch lady or a boot camp lady or a camp follower or something. The possibilities are endless! Why must you always assume the worst?” Shelly slammed her glass down and glared at me.
“Ok, so maybe she could be one of those things. But she could also be a prostitute! Y’know the kind I’m talking about, those camp following whores looking for money and hooch.” I spat; I had an image of this Clara person as a prostitute with big hair and short skirts and ripped tights.
“I highly doubt that Will would have sex with any of those whores.”
“But –” Shelly clamped her hand over my mouth.
“Stop! We know Will and we know he wouldn’t, so don’t worry!” She said reassuringly.
“How are you so sure?” I knew I was being difficult, but I had my mind set on Clara and Will.
“Because I know,” She was getting frustrated with me, so I stopped myself from saying ‘Maybe the old Will wouldn’t do anything.’ “Anyway, let’s get working on these name cards.”
“Oh my God, your wedding! I almost forgot! I’m so sorry! With everything that's been going on -”
“It’s ok,” Shelly laughed. “I understand.”
“No it’s not!”
“Just shut up and help me ok?” Shelly laughed again, grabbing my arm and leading me into the living room.
*
Will’s POV
Ugh
I’ve never felt worse in my entire life, ever. Not any time during the war or even before that. Death seemed to pass me by a couple days ago, and consciousness was unavoidable. I’d been sleeping dreamlessly, which I guess was a good thing. Images from the war had been haunting me while I was still in it, I’d imagine they’d be worse now that I’m out. My whole body was twitching and my eyes were itching to open. There was a pain in my hip, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as before.
The smell of vanilla attacked my nostrils and I heard soft giggling from downstairs. I opened my eyes slowly, trying to recognize where I was through watery eyes. The ceiling facing down at me was white, but not as white or blinding as the other one the last time I got up. The walls were a dull white also; the blanket covering me was blue, thick and familiar. I looked quickly around the room, noting the small dresser with my pack on it, the chair next to the bed and I realized where I was. I tried to sit up, grabbing the sheets.
“MARIANNE!” My voice was raspy, but much louder than I’d intended. “MARIANNE!”
The voices downstairs stopped and were replaced with something I couldn’t hear. I opened my mouth to yell again, but the yelling was actually really obnoxious. The door opened and there she was; all brown hair and bright green eyes and perfect body. She was next to me in a few paces, wrapping her long arms around me, practically sitting on my lap.
“Will,” her voice was thick with emotion, “Will, are you really…?” Her voice trailed off in an adorable way.
She leaned back a little, running her hands through my dirty hair. Tears were staining her pink cheeks; I wiped them away with my thumb. In that moment, I desperately wanted to wrap her up in my arms and kiss her soft lips. She let out a laugh, rubbing her eyes and hugging me again.
“I don’t believe it,” she whispered onto my neck. “I’m not dreaming am I?” Her big green eyes were staring up at me, shining with emotion.
“You’re not, I promise.” I smiled. She pulled herself off me (much to my disappointment) and straightened out her dress.
“So,” She let out a breath. “I’m just so happy to have you home! And awake! Do you want something to eat? Or to drink? You must be hungry!” Her hands were twitching with excitement. She was so cute, God.
“Um,” my throat was suddenly dry. “Can I have some water?”
“Yeah, of course, of course!” She was fidgeting. “I’ll be right back!”
She pulled open the door and I laid back again. I heard her soft giggling out in the hall and smirked to myself. I wanted her to be mine and there was no denying that.