A Way You'll Never Be
by cannonsburn
What is this world that is hastening me toward I know not what,
Viewing me with contempt? 1
When Marouane turns eighteen, Tomáš starts to worry about him being called up to go join the war efforts. Even though they are given more money for enlisting voluntarily, Marouane doesn't because he knows he has to stay to help his mother and brother. Tomáš knows he wants to go though.
"Why?" Tomáš asks, chewing on his lip.
"I want to fight for my country," Marouane answers, simply. "They're killing our men out there, children are dying, and they don't care. I want to fight. My father is out there. I don't like just sitting here."
"You're not," Tomáš points out, "you're helping your mother, and you're taking care of Yassin."
"I know. You don't know what it's like though. I'm afraid every time the phone rings. I always think, 'This is it. They're calling to say he's missing or he's dead.'"
"How would you joining the war help?”
"Because I'd be out there fighting with him." Marouane pauses. "Maybe not literally with him, but I'd be helping in a way."
It doesn't make any sense to Tomáš but Marouane looks so forlorn, so he decides to try another track. "What about your mother? How do you think she'd feel? A husband and a son gone to fight in the war." He's irritated all of a sudden. He can't believe how flippant Marouane is being about this; as if it was so easy to just leave your life behind and go off to fight like he was a man, when he was still really just a child. "You're not thinking, you know? You'll be leaving people behind here; people who will worry about you just like you're worrying about your father. How do you think we'll feel every time the phone rings?" Tomáš thinks about how he won't even get a phone call and he'll have to hear about it from Yassin or Marouane's mother, and they'll be too wrapped up in their own despair to think about how he'll feel, and why should they anyway? He was her son, Yassin's brother, he didn't technically have any rights to be especially sad, except―
"Hey." Marouane's voice breaks through his distressing train of thought. He runs his thumb over Tomáš's lower lip that has started to bleed from all the chewing Tomáš had done. "I haven't even been called up. We'll worry about it when the time comes, okay?" He grasps Tomáš's chin and kisses him.
"Maybe you won't be called up," Tomáš says, leaning against him.
"Yeah." Marouane rests his chin on top of Tomáš's head. "Your dad and Jiří weren't."
Tomáš sighs. "Yet." He hates that no one seems to know how they were being selected; the only solid requirement they were aware of was the age― eighteen.
"At least I don't have to worry about you yet," Marouane says quietly, tightening his arms around Tomáš.
Tomáš has eight more months before he turned eighteen, eight more months before he has to worry about being called up himself. Until then, he just worries about Marouane instead.
~
It happens in March.
Tomáš is just stunned. He blinks at the black print on the off-white paper without really understanding what its saying.
Jiří has snuck up behind him. "What is that?" he asks, reaching for the letter.
Tomáš snatches it away in time, and stuffs it in his pocket. "Nothing," he says. "I have to go."
Then he's out the door and running as fast as he can. His legs hurt because he's not used to running like this, and his lungs feel like they're on fire, but it's good, because all he can think about is how his legs feel like they're going to give out from under him, and how he needs to breathe in more; this way he doesn't have to think about the implications of the letter.
When he arrives at Marouane's house, he knocks on the door and waits, doubled over from the sharp pains from his sides.
The door opens and Marouane smiles down at him. "Hey." He frowns slightly as he takes in Tomáš's posture and his panting. "Did you run all the way here?"
Tomáš nods as he straightens up, still breathing hard. Marouane shakes his head, his smile returning. He opens his mouth to say something but Tomáš cuts him off.
"I've been called up." He takes the letter from his pocket and holds it out.
Marouane's smile disappears as he takes the letter. Tomáš watches him read it, and then there's something inside him that aches, and there's a pressure at the back of his eyes but he isn't going to cry. Not when so many boys had gone through this same thing and he was sure none of them had cried.
"But you're only seventeen," Marouane says finally, looking up.
"I have to report to the base on October 20th," Tomáš says calmly; calmer than he feels, which is not calm at all. "I'll be eighteen by then."
"They can't do this, "Marouane insists, stubbornly.
"They did." Tomáš pauses and then the panic that he had tried so hard to suppress comes pouring out. "What am I going to do? I don't fight. I don't even fight with Jiří. We argue― with words. Words. I can't kill people with words."
Marouane grabs his shoulders. "Tomáš, calm down―"
"Calm down? Did you hear what I said? Jiří and I fight with words. What am I going to do when I have a gun pointed at me, yell out a haiku?"
Marouane pulls him closer. "Tomáš. That's what the training is for, they won't send you out there unprepared."
"I don't want to go to training!" Tomáš yells, shoving Marouane away. "I don't want to go at all. I mean, in six months I might have to kill someone." He puts a hand to his forehead and is mildly aware that he is close to hyperventilating. "And it'll be someone's son. Someone's brother, someone's friend." He looks up at Marouane, angrily. "How could you have wanted to do this? How could you be okay with being the reason a mother loses a son?"
Marouane's eyes get darker at that. "Because it would have been his life or mine," he snaps back, sounding just as angry. "And I'm selfish, okay? I'd pick my life." He grabs Tomáš's wrists, roughly. "And that's what you're going to do. You're going to think about your parents, your brother, your― friends, and you're going to pick yourself." He shakes him slightly. "Okay?"
Tomáš feels all the fight go out of him. "Okay," he says, flatly.
Marouane sighs, and pulls Tomáš against him. "It'll be okay. We'll figure this out."
"Yeah," Tomáš says. He can't really see how it will be okay though.
---
I'll whisper to you
All of the places my lips
Are going to kiss. 2
"Open your eyes," Marouane says. When Tomáš does, he leans forward, his lips close to Tomáš's ear. "I want you to think about this when you're away," he whispers, twisting his wrist. "I want you to remember everything about this moment, okay?"
Tomáš nods and he can't actually talk because he feels too much right now. Most of it is good― so good, he couldn't believe it was this good― but it's there at the back of his mind too.
"Stop, please." Marouane sits up slightly, and with his free hand, he smoothes out Tomáš's eyebrows. "Can you not think about it for a few minutes?"
Tomáš sits up, but it doesn't throw Marouane off. "Okay," he says, and he grabs the back of Marouane's head and crushes their lips together. Marouane's fingers slide into his hair, holding him tight and he's licking along his teeth, until Tomáš makes a small sound of contentment.
It works. He doesn't think about it for awhile. He doesn't think of anything for awhile.
~
Jirí fights with him a lot. It's aggravating and Tomáš can't understand it because they usually get along well. It would be one thing if they fight over something that matters, but instead Jirí gets irritated if he leaves the cap off the toothpaste tube or if Tomáš spills coffee on the kitchen counter.
"He's going to miss you," his mother tells him.
"How is this helping?"
His mother pats him on the arm. "He just doesn't know how to cope."
Tomáš glances at her. "Are you coping?" he asks, quietly.
She gives him a sad smile. "I'm not sure.”
~
"What do you want?" Marouane asks.
You, Tomáš thinks. That's too weird to think of and even stranger to say, so even though it's true, he doesn't say anything. Instead he takes Marouane's hand in his and guides it down.
It's not a complete lie. He wants that too.
~
Tomáš always turns bright red and his entire body flushes. Marouane laughs the first time it happens, but before Tomáš can feel embarrassed, he kisses the little hollow at the base of Tomáš's neck and he doesn't care anymore.
"I'll miss this," Marouane says, his fingers trailing down overheated skin.
Tomáš thinks about how Marouane's fingers feel cool against his own skin, he thinks about how that's only one of the things he'll miss; he's going to miss so much.
~
He hopes it will go away, but it doesn't; he just aches. "Marouane?"
"Hmm?"
"I―" He means them, the words going through his mind, but he can't say them.
"I know," Marouane says, quietly.
Tomáš brushes his lips against the inside of Marouane's wrist.
"You'll tell me when you get back, okay?"
"Okay."
Marouane turns to him. "That means you have to come back."
Tomáš smiles. "Of course I'm coming back," he says softly, as his fingers drop in between Marouane's. "You'd kill me if I didn't."
Marouane buries his face in his shoulder and Tomáš feels him laugh.
"I would," he mumbles, and he squeezes Tomáš's hand.
~
They're playing hockey when Jirí elbows him in the face. Tomáš knows it's an accident but he's so angry at how Jirí has been acting that he ends up toppling his brother over. He takes a swing at him, but Jirí shifts in time and he misses.
"Stop being a jerk," he snarls, punching Jirí in the shoulder.
Jirí grabs his wrists to still his hands. "Don't leave."
Tomáš freezes. "What?"
"I don't want you to leave," Jirí says, letting go of Tomáš's wrists. "You're a kid, you shouldn't be fighting."
Tomáš moves off him and sits down beside him. "I don't want to leave."
Jirí sits up and they're both quiet for awhile. "It should have been me," he says, finally.
"What?"
"I'm the older brother, I should have been called up, not you."
"Don't be stupid, it's not your fault. We all know the call ups are random."
"I might still be called up." Jirí nudges his shoulder and he smiles a little. "Someone needs to protect your scrawny butt and hold your hand while you cry at the loud noises."
Tomáš frowns. "Don't say that."
Jirí looks surprised. "I was joking. I don't really think you'll be crying or anything."
"No, I mean about being called up. I don't want you to fight."
"I know." Jirí sighs. "Sorry about the eye."
Tomáš gingerly touches his right eye and grimaces. He should get used to it, he supposes. It'll be worse soon.
---
This hour I tell things in confidence;
I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you. 3
Marouane laughs when he sees Tomáš's eye. "I thought you only fought with words," he says, wrapping blocks of ice in a cloth and handing it to him. "Don't you two usually just leave angry notes for each other?"
"Shut up," Tomáš mumbles.
"What were you two fighting about? I don't think I've ever seen Jirí argue with you about anything."
"Nothing, it's okay now."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
Marouane taps the table lightly. Finally he asks, "Are you okay?"
Tomáš looks at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you leave in two weeks. Are you okay?"
Tomáš already knows this, he's been counting down since he received his letter. "I'm fine."
"Really?" Marouane looks at him, doubtfully.
Tomáš shrugs. "As fine as someone can be, all things considered." He glances at Marouane. "Are you okay?"
"No."
He isn't really surprised to hear that, but he didn't expect Marouane to be so forward about it.
"I was hoping that the war would have ended by now and you wouldn't have to leave, or you wouldn't have to fight at least."
Tomáš hasn't thought about how this is hard for everyone around him too. "I'm sorry," he says.
Marouane laughs shallowly. "Don't be." He tilts his head a little. "Be brave."
~
On Tomáš's birthday, there's a big party and he's overwhelmed. He's grateful for all the support and the encouragement, but they don't really make him feel better, they just make him ache. It's been so prominent and persistent since he learned he would be leaving, that aching feeling.
That night Marouane kisses him soft and sweet, idly mapping out the lines of his bones with his fingers, but Tomáš isn't in the mood for sweet; it makes the aching worse. He pushes Marouane off him and flips them over.
Marouane raises an eyebrow in surprise. He looks like he's about to say something, but then Tomáš is kissing him roughly, his fingers digging into his waist. He kisses his way down Marouane's neck, tracing the contours of his collarbone, licking into the dips. When Tomáš's teeth scrape against his clavicle, Marouane sucks in a deep breath.
"Come here," he says, pulling Tomáš back up to him. He kisses him again, his hand sliding down Tomáš's back and dipping into the curve where his spine ends. He presses down and shifts underneath Tomáš, aligning their bodies.
Tomáš whimpers. There's a different kind of ache now.
He forms unfinished sentences in his head: I want (to stay). I miss (my childhood). I love (my dad, my mother, my brother, you). I'm not (brave). I am (scared).
Marouane bites down on his shoulder then, and then Tomáš just wants wants wants.
~
Tomáš talks to his father, he thinks his father is brave enough to hear this.
He tells his father that he's afraid.
"Of dying?"
"No. I mean, yes, that too, but I'm afraid of all the memories you'll have left of me if something happens."
His father gives him a puzzled look but he doesn't say anything.
"I'm afraid that you'll find out things about me that will disappoint you. You'll hear about the things I did and you'll be ashamed."
His father's face softens. "I won't, Tomáš, I know this is not what you want."
"I'll still do things that won't make you proud."
"That's okay. It's not okay, but I understand."
Tomáš feels unbelievably sad for the first time. "I want you to know that I'm happy. Not about this, but I mean in general. You've given me a lot to be happy about in my life, and I'm happy. I'm afraid that if I die, you'll think about all the things you could have done for me or given me, and there isn't anything. You've made me so happy."
He looks at his father's face and he realizes that he was wrong, his father wasn't brave enough.
~
The night before he leaves, Tomáš lays awake in the dark with Marouane beside him. Everything is quiet and still, but he can tell from the way Marouane is breathing that he's still awake.
"I'm not brave." He says it quietly and he's not even sure it's aimed at Marouane.
"I'm not either."
"Are you really not coming to the train station tomorrow?"
Marouane sighs, and turns towards him. "Don't say it like that," he says. "That implies that I don't want to; you know I do. Your family will be there and that's how it should be, just family."
Tomáš always has to try hard to not say anything he'll regret or that he finds ridiculous but he blurts this out without thinking: "You're my family too."
He can tell Marouane is smiling. "I know. But tomorrow belongs to your parents and your brother, they're losing you and I think they deserve to have you all to themselves. You'll be glad too."
Tomáš knows he's right. "Yeah, okay." He kisses Marouane right below his ear and thinks that at least tonight is theirs.
~
"I don't know how to say goodbye to you," Marouane says.
Tomáš wants to be able to tell him he doesn't have to, but he wants a goodbye. He doesn't want to tell him that he doesn't have to; he doesn't want to make promises today, not when everything from now on will be out of his control. He doesn't want the last thing he says to Marouane to be a lie.
"Just don't lie," he says. "Don't tell me everything will be okay."
"No," Marouane agrees.
They fall silent and Tomáš is a little disappointed. It's all very anti-climactic, although he has nothing to say either.
Just as his father calls out from the car, Marouane blurts out, "Be strong."
Tomáš blinks at him. "What?"
"You said you can't be brave, so be strong instead."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
"No, it's not. I know you can be strong. It's hard to be brave."
"Okay." He takes Marouane's hand in his. "I'll be strong. I need you not to worry." He smoothes out Marouane's eyebrows, even though that's usually what Marouane does to him. "I don't want letters about how you're worried. I want to hear about your classes or what Yassin did to piss you off or how your day at work went."
"Who said I'm going to write to you?" Marouane smirks at him.
Tomáš waves a hand, dismissively. "Don't worry, I'm not expecting you to be Hemingway or anything, I'll appreciate any letter you send."
"That's very gracious of you."
Tomáš is smiling when Marouane pulls him close and kisses him.
"Don't let them break you," Marouane whispers against his lips.
"I won't," he says. It's a promise, but he thinks he'll be able to keep it.
---
A/N:
1 From The Vision by Khalil Gibran.
2 Haiku written by Tyler Knott.
3 From Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass.
What is this world that is hastening me toward I know not what,
Viewing me with contempt? 1
When Marouane turns eighteen, Tomáš starts to worry about him being called up to go join the war efforts. Even though they are given more money for enlisting voluntarily, Marouane doesn't because he knows he has to stay to help his mother and brother. Tomáš knows he wants to go though.
"Why?" Tomáš asks, chewing on his lip.
"I want to fight for my country," Marouane answers, simply. "They're killing our men out there, children are dying, and they don't care. I want to fight. My father is out there. I don't like just sitting here."
"You're not," Tomáš points out, "you're helping your mother, and you're taking care of Yassin."
"I know. You don't know what it's like though. I'm afraid every time the phone rings. I always think, 'This is it. They're calling to say he's missing or he's dead.'"
"How would you joining the war help?”
"Because I'd be out there fighting with him." Marouane pauses. "Maybe not literally with him, but I'd be helping in a way."
It doesn't make any sense to Tomáš but Marouane looks so forlorn, so he decides to try another track. "What about your mother? How do you think she'd feel? A husband and a son gone to fight in the war." He's irritated all of a sudden. He can't believe how flippant Marouane is being about this; as if it was so easy to just leave your life behind and go off to fight like he was a man, when he was still really just a child. "You're not thinking, you know? You'll be leaving people behind here; people who will worry about you just like you're worrying about your father. How do you think we'll feel every time the phone rings?" Tomáš thinks about how he won't even get a phone call and he'll have to hear about it from Yassin or Marouane's mother, and they'll be too wrapped up in their own despair to think about how he'll feel, and why should they anyway? He was her son, Yassin's brother, he didn't technically have any rights to be especially sad, except―
"Hey." Marouane's voice breaks through his distressing train of thought. He runs his thumb over Tomáš's lower lip that has started to bleed from all the chewing Tomáš had done. "I haven't even been called up. We'll worry about it when the time comes, okay?" He grasps Tomáš's chin and kisses him.
"Maybe you won't be called up," Tomáš says, leaning against him.
"Yeah." Marouane rests his chin on top of Tomáš's head. "Your dad and Jiří weren't."
Tomáš sighs. "Yet." He hates that no one seems to know how they were being selected; the only solid requirement they were aware of was the age― eighteen.
"At least I don't have to worry about you yet," Marouane says quietly, tightening his arms around Tomáš.
Tomáš has eight more months before he turned eighteen, eight more months before he has to worry about being called up himself. Until then, he just worries about Marouane instead.
~
It happens in March.
Tomáš is just stunned. He blinks at the black print on the off-white paper without really understanding what its saying.
Jiří has snuck up behind him. "What is that?" he asks, reaching for the letter.
Tomáš snatches it away in time, and stuffs it in his pocket. "Nothing," he says. "I have to go."
Then he's out the door and running as fast as he can. His legs hurt because he's not used to running like this, and his lungs feel like they're on fire, but it's good, because all he can think about is how his legs feel like they're going to give out from under him, and how he needs to breathe in more; this way he doesn't have to think about the implications of the letter.
When he arrives at Marouane's house, he knocks on the door and waits, doubled over from the sharp pains from his sides.
The door opens and Marouane smiles down at him. "Hey." He frowns slightly as he takes in Tomáš's posture and his panting. "Did you run all the way here?"
Tomáš nods as he straightens up, still breathing hard. Marouane shakes his head, his smile returning. He opens his mouth to say something but Tomáš cuts him off.
"I've been called up." He takes the letter from his pocket and holds it out.
Marouane's smile disappears as he takes the letter. Tomáš watches him read it, and then there's something inside him that aches, and there's a pressure at the back of his eyes but he isn't going to cry. Not when so many boys had gone through this same thing and he was sure none of them had cried.
"But you're only seventeen," Marouane says finally, looking up.
"I have to report to the base on October 20th," Tomáš says calmly; calmer than he feels, which is not calm at all. "I'll be eighteen by then."
"They can't do this, "Marouane insists, stubbornly.
"They did." Tomáš pauses and then the panic that he had tried so hard to suppress comes pouring out. "What am I going to do? I don't fight. I don't even fight with Jiří. We argue― with words. Words. I can't kill people with words."
Marouane grabs his shoulders. "Tomáš, calm down―"
"Calm down? Did you hear what I said? Jiří and I fight with words. What am I going to do when I have a gun pointed at me, yell out a haiku?"
Marouane pulls him closer. "Tomáš. That's what the training is for, they won't send you out there unprepared."
"I don't want to go to training!" Tomáš yells, shoving Marouane away. "I don't want to go at all. I mean, in six months I might have to kill someone." He puts a hand to his forehead and is mildly aware that he is close to hyperventilating. "And it'll be someone's son. Someone's brother, someone's friend." He looks up at Marouane, angrily. "How could you have wanted to do this? How could you be okay with being the reason a mother loses a son?"
Marouane's eyes get darker at that. "Because it would have been his life or mine," he snaps back, sounding just as angry. "And I'm selfish, okay? I'd pick my life." He grabs Tomáš's wrists, roughly. "And that's what you're going to do. You're going to think about your parents, your brother, your― friends, and you're going to pick yourself." He shakes him slightly. "Okay?"
Tomáš feels all the fight go out of him. "Okay," he says, flatly.
Marouane sighs, and pulls Tomáš against him. "It'll be okay. We'll figure this out."
"Yeah," Tomáš says. He can't really see how it will be okay though.
---
I'll whisper to you
All of the places my lips
Are going to kiss. 2
"Open your eyes," Marouane says. When Tomáš does, he leans forward, his lips close to Tomáš's ear. "I want you to think about this when you're away," he whispers, twisting his wrist. "I want you to remember everything about this moment, okay?"
Tomáš nods and he can't actually talk because he feels too much right now. Most of it is good― so good, he couldn't believe it was this good― but it's there at the back of his mind too.
"Stop, please." Marouane sits up slightly, and with his free hand, he smoothes out Tomáš's eyebrows. "Can you not think about it for a few minutes?"
Tomáš sits up, but it doesn't throw Marouane off. "Okay," he says, and he grabs the back of Marouane's head and crushes their lips together. Marouane's fingers slide into his hair, holding him tight and he's licking along his teeth, until Tomáš makes a small sound of contentment.
It works. He doesn't think about it for awhile. He doesn't think of anything for awhile.
~
Jirí fights with him a lot. It's aggravating and Tomáš can't understand it because they usually get along well. It would be one thing if they fight over something that matters, but instead Jirí gets irritated if he leaves the cap off the toothpaste tube or if Tomáš spills coffee on the kitchen counter.
"He's going to miss you," his mother tells him.
"How is this helping?"
His mother pats him on the arm. "He just doesn't know how to cope."
Tomáš glances at her. "Are you coping?" he asks, quietly.
She gives him a sad smile. "I'm not sure.”
~
"What do you want?" Marouane asks.
You, Tomáš thinks. That's too weird to think of and even stranger to say, so even though it's true, he doesn't say anything. Instead he takes Marouane's hand in his and guides it down.
It's not a complete lie. He wants that too.
~
Tomáš always turns bright red and his entire body flushes. Marouane laughs the first time it happens, but before Tomáš can feel embarrassed, he kisses the little hollow at the base of Tomáš's neck and he doesn't care anymore.
"I'll miss this," Marouane says, his fingers trailing down overheated skin.
Tomáš thinks about how Marouane's fingers feel cool against his own skin, he thinks about how that's only one of the things he'll miss; he's going to miss so much.
~
He hopes it will go away, but it doesn't; he just aches. "Marouane?"
"Hmm?"
"I―" He means them, the words going through his mind, but he can't say them.
"I know," Marouane says, quietly.
Tomáš brushes his lips against the inside of Marouane's wrist.
"You'll tell me when you get back, okay?"
"Okay."
Marouane turns to him. "That means you have to come back."
Tomáš smiles. "Of course I'm coming back," he says softly, as his fingers drop in between Marouane's. "You'd kill me if I didn't."
Marouane buries his face in his shoulder and Tomáš feels him laugh.
"I would," he mumbles, and he squeezes Tomáš's hand.
~
They're playing hockey when Jirí elbows him in the face. Tomáš knows it's an accident but he's so angry at how Jirí has been acting that he ends up toppling his brother over. He takes a swing at him, but Jirí shifts in time and he misses.
"Stop being a jerk," he snarls, punching Jirí in the shoulder.
Jirí grabs his wrists to still his hands. "Don't leave."
Tomáš freezes. "What?"
"I don't want you to leave," Jirí says, letting go of Tomáš's wrists. "You're a kid, you shouldn't be fighting."
Tomáš moves off him and sits down beside him. "I don't want to leave."
Jirí sits up and they're both quiet for awhile. "It should have been me," he says, finally.
"What?"
"I'm the older brother, I should have been called up, not you."
"Don't be stupid, it's not your fault. We all know the call ups are random."
"I might still be called up." Jirí nudges his shoulder and he smiles a little. "Someone needs to protect your scrawny butt and hold your hand while you cry at the loud noises."
Tomáš frowns. "Don't say that."
Jirí looks surprised. "I was joking. I don't really think you'll be crying or anything."
"No, I mean about being called up. I don't want you to fight."
"I know." Jirí sighs. "Sorry about the eye."
Tomáš gingerly touches his right eye and grimaces. He should get used to it, he supposes. It'll be worse soon.
---
This hour I tell things in confidence;
I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you. 3
Marouane laughs when he sees Tomáš's eye. "I thought you only fought with words," he says, wrapping blocks of ice in a cloth and handing it to him. "Don't you two usually just leave angry notes for each other?"
"Shut up," Tomáš mumbles.
"What were you two fighting about? I don't think I've ever seen Jirí argue with you about anything."
"Nothing, it's okay now."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
Marouane taps the table lightly. Finally he asks, "Are you okay?"
Tomáš looks at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you leave in two weeks. Are you okay?"
Tomáš already knows this, he's been counting down since he received his letter. "I'm fine."
"Really?" Marouane looks at him, doubtfully.
Tomáš shrugs. "As fine as someone can be, all things considered." He glances at Marouane. "Are you okay?"
"No."
He isn't really surprised to hear that, but he didn't expect Marouane to be so forward about it.
"I was hoping that the war would have ended by now and you wouldn't have to leave, or you wouldn't have to fight at least."
Tomáš hasn't thought about how this is hard for everyone around him too. "I'm sorry," he says.
Marouane laughs shallowly. "Don't be." He tilts his head a little. "Be brave."
~
On Tomáš's birthday, there's a big party and he's overwhelmed. He's grateful for all the support and the encouragement, but they don't really make him feel better, they just make him ache. It's been so prominent and persistent since he learned he would be leaving, that aching feeling.
That night Marouane kisses him soft and sweet, idly mapping out the lines of his bones with his fingers, but Tomáš isn't in the mood for sweet; it makes the aching worse. He pushes Marouane off him and flips them over.
Marouane raises an eyebrow in surprise. He looks like he's about to say something, but then Tomáš is kissing him roughly, his fingers digging into his waist. He kisses his way down Marouane's neck, tracing the contours of his collarbone, licking into the dips. When Tomáš's teeth scrape against his clavicle, Marouane sucks in a deep breath.
"Come here," he says, pulling Tomáš back up to him. He kisses him again, his hand sliding down Tomáš's back and dipping into the curve where his spine ends. He presses down and shifts underneath Tomáš, aligning their bodies.
Tomáš whimpers. There's a different kind of ache now.
He forms unfinished sentences in his head: I want (to stay). I miss (my childhood). I love (my dad, my mother, my brother, you). I'm not (brave). I am (scared).
Marouane bites down on his shoulder then, and then Tomáš just wants wants wants.
~
Tomáš talks to his father, he thinks his father is brave enough to hear this.
He tells his father that he's afraid.
"Of dying?"
"No. I mean, yes, that too, but I'm afraid of all the memories you'll have left of me if something happens."
His father gives him a puzzled look but he doesn't say anything.
"I'm afraid that you'll find out things about me that will disappoint you. You'll hear about the things I did and you'll be ashamed."
His father's face softens. "I won't, Tomáš, I know this is not what you want."
"I'll still do things that won't make you proud."
"That's okay. It's not okay, but I understand."
Tomáš feels unbelievably sad for the first time. "I want you to know that I'm happy. Not about this, but I mean in general. You've given me a lot to be happy about in my life, and I'm happy. I'm afraid that if I die, you'll think about all the things you could have done for me or given me, and there isn't anything. You've made me so happy."
He looks at his father's face and he realizes that he was wrong, his father wasn't brave enough.
~
The night before he leaves, Tomáš lays awake in the dark with Marouane beside him. Everything is quiet and still, but he can tell from the way Marouane is breathing that he's still awake.
"I'm not brave." He says it quietly and he's not even sure it's aimed at Marouane.
"I'm not either."
"Are you really not coming to the train station tomorrow?"
Marouane sighs, and turns towards him. "Don't say it like that," he says. "That implies that I don't want to; you know I do. Your family will be there and that's how it should be, just family."
Tomáš always has to try hard to not say anything he'll regret or that he finds ridiculous but he blurts this out without thinking: "You're my family too."
He can tell Marouane is smiling. "I know. But tomorrow belongs to your parents and your brother, they're losing you and I think they deserve to have you all to themselves. You'll be glad too."
Tomáš knows he's right. "Yeah, okay." He kisses Marouane right below his ear and thinks that at least tonight is theirs.
~
"I don't know how to say goodbye to you," Marouane says.
Tomáš wants to be able to tell him he doesn't have to, but he wants a goodbye. He doesn't want to tell him that he doesn't have to; he doesn't want to make promises today, not when everything from now on will be out of his control. He doesn't want the last thing he says to Marouane to be a lie.
"Just don't lie," he says. "Don't tell me everything will be okay."
"No," Marouane agrees.
They fall silent and Tomáš is a little disappointed. It's all very anti-climactic, although he has nothing to say either.
Just as his father calls out from the car, Marouane blurts out, "Be strong."
Tomáš blinks at him. "What?"
"You said you can't be brave, so be strong instead."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
"No, it's not. I know you can be strong. It's hard to be brave."
"Okay." He takes Marouane's hand in his. "I'll be strong. I need you not to worry." He smoothes out Marouane's eyebrows, even though that's usually what Marouane does to him. "I don't want letters about how you're worried. I want to hear about your classes or what Yassin did to piss you off or how your day at work went."
"Who said I'm going to write to you?" Marouane smirks at him.
Tomáš waves a hand, dismissively. "Don't worry, I'm not expecting you to be Hemingway or anything, I'll appreciate any letter you send."
"That's very gracious of you."
Tomáš is smiling when Marouane pulls him close and kisses him.
"Don't let them break you," Marouane whispers against his lips.
"I won't," he says. It's a promise, but he thinks he'll be able to keep it.
---
A/N:
1 From The Vision by Khalil Gibran.
2 Haiku written by Tyler Knott.
3 From Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass.