An old prompt

Since I completely failed this week, I decided I would post an old prompt I had done for someone (not in on this game, sadly).  There's actually a lot more to this one, involving the end of the world dystopia that is alluded to at the beginning, but I cut it down because that's what felt right for inclusion here.  I actually always meant to revisit this and edit it.  Heidi is gonna hate all the paragraphs :D



The world never ended when you expected it to.  In that year before everything really fell apart, Liam had lost count of the moments where he had wished that it would.  Maybe it was a penchant for the dramatic.  Maybe he’d watched Fight Club one time too many.  Either way, he had found himself daydreaming more and more about the simplicity of this imagined post-apocalyptic life.  That he would survive was always a given.  He would come through this end of times without a scratch on him (or at least, nothing that didn’t leave a flattering sort of scar) and somehow master survival in the harsh terrain of a world transformed into something bleak and hopeless.  He would find his calling.  Nevermind that he hadn’t been able to cut it up until now.  Forget the fact he’d let his best friend die in the middle of goddamn nowhere.  Between the guilt and the strain of finishing his overseas tour of duty, the end of the world seemed like the only solution that held any promise.

Time stood still in that month after the “incident”.  It was his own personal little apocalypse, but the sun kept on shining.  The next thing he knew, he was flying home.  Her letters were tucked safely away; a treasure he wouldn’t have admitted to keeping all these years.  It was not the homecoming they had planned for.  His own family had never been what anyone would call supportive.  It was why he’d joined up to begin with.  So when he made it to the airport, there was no Kodak moment waiting in the terminal.  His mom would be glad to see him, but she wasn’t going to miss Regis and Kelly for it.

He had gotten good by then at going through the motions.  He was a better soldier now, but things were a little trickier off duty.  He in-processed, settled in as best he could, and pressed his dress blues meticulously.  Then he waited.  At the funeral, he didn’t look for her.  He stood at attention, keeping his eyes mostly on the Honor Guard.  Anything.  Anything but the family who had just lost their son.  And especially the girl who had brother.  When it was his turn to speak, he didn’t talk about growing up together with a best friend who had always been there for him.  He talked about the loss of a Soldier, not a brother.  It must have seemed cold, and he would realize that later.  It was hardly as if he wasn’t hurting, but here among the people who had loved Josh best, he didn’t feel entitled to that suffering.  After all, it was his fault.  What right did he have to feel sorry for himself?

Hugs and handshakes, an endless exchange of condolences.  Numbness set in, the way it always did when he was forced to think on what had happened and what had been lost.  Once more, he went through the motions with numb precision.  Then he was cleared for duty again and it was all over.  And he was so grateful this time to be leaving all that pain behind that he didn’t look back.  For two years, it didn’t matter that his mother was the only one who still wrote him, or would take his calls when he could make them.  He signed up for an extended tour.  Let the soldiers with families go home, he thought.  He had nothing to go back to.  It was the best way to keep his promise, in any case.  The best thing he could do for any of them was to let them live their lives and not serve as a constant reminder of what had been taken from them.


Gradually he found a part of himself arguing with that sentiment.  Even grief, to some extent, came with an expiration date.  His mother would mention her in a letter, and he would suddenly feel homesick.  He had his friends here, his new brothers.  That was enough as long as he didn’t dwell on it.  But that became harder and harder.  When it was time to go home, this time, he resolved to see her.  One way or another, he knew he had to.  They had two weeks and he would either set things right or at least find some closure in knowing they were beyond hope.  He showed up on her doorstep in jeans and t-shirt, but it had taken a ridiculous length of time to settle on the level of formality for the occasion.  He had gotten the address from friends, but he didn’t know if she was home.  He didn’t know if he hoped she was or not.  By the time the door opened, he was feeling sick, regretting coming at all.  After two years without a word between them, he broke the silence with a tragically inadequate, “Hey.”