@blue_topaz
(Won’t Pierre have gone back to camp by now?)
Pierre slipped on his boots and joined her outside, enclosing her hand in his.
(Won’t Pierre have gone back to camp by now?)
Pierre slipped on his boots and joined her outside, enclosing her hand in his.
John stood there in his own sin, looking lost and vulnerable. The sudden flood of paranoia ensued– would Peter tell Jane? Would he tell anyone? John's forehead drooled with sweat.
(Won’t Pierre have gone back to camp by now?)
Pierre slipped on his boots and joined her outside, enclosing her hand in his.
Ouf, um, yeah prolLy my b a d )
"I missed this." She murmured.
John stood there in his own sin, looking lost and vulnerable. The sudden flood of paranoia ensued– would Peter tell Jane? Would he tell anyone? John's forehead drooled with sweat.
Peter suddenly stopped and turned around. "I'm not going to tell Jane," he said sharply. "You are. Because the only thing that could make this worse right now it keeping it from her."
(Won’t Pierre have gone back to camp by now?)
Pierre slipped on his boots and joined her outside, enclosing her hand in his.
Ouf, um, yeah prolLy my b a d )
"I missed this." She murmured.
(Oof it’s fine, lol)
“Mm,” he agreed, squeezing her hand,
John stood there in his own sin, looking lost and vulnerable. The sudden flood of paranoia ensued– would Peter tell Jane? Would he tell anyone? John's forehead drooled with sweat.
Peter suddenly stopped and turned around. "I'm not going to tell Jane," he said sharply. "You are. Because the only thing that could make this worse right now it keeping it from her."
His lips pursed into a thin line. He averted his eyes.
John stood there in his own sin, looking lost and vulnerable. The sudden flood of paranoia ensued– would Peter tell Jane? Would he tell anyone? John's forehead drooled with sweat.
Peter suddenly stopped and turned around. "I'm not going to tell Jane," he said sharply. "You are. Because the only thing that could make this worse right now it keeping it from her."
His lips pursed into a thin line. He averted his eyes.
"You have to tell her what you did, and admit that it was wrong," Peter said firmly.
(Won’t Pierre have gone back to camp by now?)
Pierre slipped on his boots and joined her outside, enclosing her hand in his.
Ouf, um, yeah prolLy my b a d )
"I missed this." She murmured.
(Oof it’s fine, lol)
“Mm,” he agreed, squeezing her hand,
She leaned her head against his arm.
John stood there in his own sin, looking lost and vulnerable. The sudden flood of paranoia ensued– would Peter tell Jane? Would he tell anyone? John's forehead drooled with sweat.
Peter suddenly stopped and turned around. "I'm not going to tell Jane," he said sharply. "You are. Because the only thing that could make this worse right now it keeping it from her."
His lips pursed into a thin line. He averted his eyes.
"You have to tell her what you did, and admit that it was wrong," Peter said firmly.
"I can't." John retorted firmly.
"You have to tell her what you did, and admit that it was wrong," Peter said firmly.
"I can't." John retorted firmly.
Peter's expression flickered. "Then you're a coward."
His face wrinkled into a scowl. "I am not a coward." John whispered.
"Then tell your wife you screwed up. She deserves to know."
"Howabout you take the orders of your superior, and go back to camp, soldier," John spoke coldly to his friend, but his voice shook.
Peter looked as though he'd been slapped. After a moment, his jaw tensed and he growled, "Yes, sir," before turning once more and pacing away.
A small noise came from behind John.
John's posture hunched, he lifted a hand to pinch the nose of his bridge and try to rub the throbbing from behind his eyes. He felt dazed. Felt wounded, felt poisonous for saying those things.
"Monsieur?" a quiet voice asked.
"What?" He croaked.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know you were married," the woman whispered. She sounded younger then she had before. Weaker, even…
He scoffed quietly. Sure. "Maybe you won't fool around with drunk men, then." John replied quietly. "I have to go."
A gentle hand touched his arm. "For what it's worth… I do think you're kind and brave," she said softly.
A genuine pain brought tears to his eyes, he looked down with overwhelming shame.
"Your wife is lucky to have you." The words sounded forced, but she really did mean it. The only problem is, I want to have you…
"I can't tell her about this," he wiped his eyes. "I can't come back here.."
The woman took a step to stand beside him and pressed a light, whispery kiss to the bottom of his cheek. "I know. And I will truly miss you, Monsieur André."
His lips tightened, and he said nothing. "I'll buy a bottle of whiskey, before I go."
( god. Have you ever wanted to throttle someone so badly. Even though they dont actually exist )
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