Lessons Learned
Title: Lessons Learned
Characters: Jude/Max
Fandom: Across the Universe
Rating: R
Table: 1
Prompt: 82, Lessons
Author's Note: This is entirely a product of imagination, and I do not own Jude Feeny, Max Carrigan, or any of the other characters depicted in the film Across the Universe.
Dear Jude,
Another couple of weeks have gone by, and I'm sitting here in my tent in the dead of night writing another letter to you. It's safe to do that, because as far as we know, there's no enemy around, so don't worry about me having a light that'll lead them to us.
That's one of the reasons I can't write to you sometimes, even though I want to. I don't really have time in the day, unless we're in a place that's pretty much uninhabited and we're setting up camp for a few days. And at night, we usually have to keep our lights doused.
But tonight, it's safe. I'm not the only man writing to somebody he loves back home, but the others aren't writing in the same way I am. Their relationships are different -- mainly because they're not with an incredible person like you.
One of the lessons I've learned while I've been here is not to talk too much about you. Most of the guys are okay with me being gay; they've learned to trust me, and they know that I'm not interested in anybody but you. But there's still some who don't feel that way.
I don't know why they're so worried -- anybody who knows me at all knows that I'm not going to even think about touching another guy. They know that I'm in love with you, and that I can control my hormones to keep myself from jumping on some stranger.
But there are still some guys who just don't get that, and who'll act pretty weird if they have to be alone with me anywhere. So I just try to keep my head down and my mouth shut, and I don't talk about you and me openly to anybody I don't feel like I know pretty well.
It's funny, isn't it? I have to trust all of these guys with my life, and yet some of them I don't trust enough to tell them about the most precious thing in my whole existence. But I guess that's how it is with everybody -- nobody really opens up to each other any more.
That's just another lesson for me to learn, I guess -- but it'd be one I could learn anywhere. I'd know not to talk too much about being gay and being in love with a man if I was safe at home, not out here in the jungle risking my life in a war that I don't believe in.
I'm learning a lot of lessons here, some of them lessons I need for survival, others that I feel like I could do without. I can't say that this experience hasn't taught me a lot. But mostly, it's just taught me how much I miss you and hate being away from you.
One of the things that really gets to me is knowing what my dad says about me being over here. He looks at it as a "learning experience," as a way of me "becoming a man." He doesn't seem to realize that I'm an adult, not the little kid I was years ago.
Not only that, but he thinks that I'm "not a real man" because I'm gay, and that being out here in the middle of the jungle will "make a man out of me." I'm so fucking sick of hearing that. I wish I could throw those words right back in his teeth.
But that's not something I want to talk about with you. I don't want our letters to each other to be tainted by the fact that he hates who I am. I don't know why I'm writing about it now, except that I'm frustrated that I can't make him understand why I love you.
Just another lesson to be learned, that not everybody is going to accept who we are. I would have thought my parents would understand and love me just because I'm their kid, but that seems like a really pretty pipe dream that isn't going to come true.
So many lessons that I've had to learn -- and not just here. I learned some of them even before I'd met you, like how to keep quiet about being gay. And even now, when society's starting to get less uptight about who I am, I still have to keep my mouth shut because of where I am.
What about you, babe? Are you having to do the same thing? I hope not -- but I also hope there's nobody making you question how you feel. I know my little sister might be trying to do just that, to come between us while I'm not there to get in her way.
It doesn't matter if she is, because I trust you. I know you'd never even look at anybody else, no matter how much they might try to tempt you. What you and I have together is really special, Jude. You're the one who made me realize that.
The toughest lesson of all is the two of us learning how to be apart. I just hope that it's not going to last for very much longer. I feel like I'm losing a little bit of myself every day, being so far away from you and not being able to hold you and feel you in my arms.
I keep telling myself that this can't keep on like it is for too much longer. You're going to be back in my arms before too long, and I'm going to turn my back on all of this and try to forget that any of it happened, or that I was ever here in this place.
That's not going to be easy to do, I know. But as long as I have you, I can do it. It's going to take me a long time to forget some of the things I've seen and done here -- if I ever do. But I'm going to try my best to put it all behind me once I've come back home safe to you.
There are probably still some more lessons in store for me before I get the hell out of here. I don't really want to learn them, but it's not like I have a choice. I've got to tough it out and just hope that I'll make it back home to you in one piece.
So far, so good. I hope that maybe I'll be able to put some of the lessons I've had to learn here to good use when I do get home. And I hope that I'll be able to remember that the most important lesson I've learned is that I belong with you, and that I never want to leave your side again.
Love always,
Max
Characters: Jude/Max
Fandom: Across the Universe
Rating: R
Table: 1
Prompt: 82, Lessons
Author's Note: This is entirely a product of imagination, and I do not own Jude Feeny, Max Carrigan, or any of the other characters depicted in the film Across the Universe.
Dear Jude,
Another couple of weeks have gone by, and I'm sitting here in my tent in the dead of night writing another letter to you. It's safe to do that, because as far as we know, there's no enemy around, so don't worry about me having a light that'll lead them to us.
That's one of the reasons I can't write to you sometimes, even though I want to. I don't really have time in the day, unless we're in a place that's pretty much uninhabited and we're setting up camp for a few days. And at night, we usually have to keep our lights doused.
But tonight, it's safe. I'm not the only man writing to somebody he loves back home, but the others aren't writing in the same way I am. Their relationships are different -- mainly because they're not with an incredible person like you.
One of the lessons I've learned while I've been here is not to talk too much about you. Most of the guys are okay with me being gay; they've learned to trust me, and they know that I'm not interested in anybody but you. But there's still some who don't feel that way.
I don't know why they're so worried -- anybody who knows me at all knows that I'm not going to even think about touching another guy. They know that I'm in love with you, and that I can control my hormones to keep myself from jumping on some stranger.
But there are still some guys who just don't get that, and who'll act pretty weird if they have to be alone with me anywhere. So I just try to keep my head down and my mouth shut, and I don't talk about you and me openly to anybody I don't feel like I know pretty well.
It's funny, isn't it? I have to trust all of these guys with my life, and yet some of them I don't trust enough to tell them about the most precious thing in my whole existence. But I guess that's how it is with everybody -- nobody really opens up to each other any more.
That's just another lesson for me to learn, I guess -- but it'd be one I could learn anywhere. I'd know not to talk too much about being gay and being in love with a man if I was safe at home, not out here in the jungle risking my life in a war that I don't believe in.
I'm learning a lot of lessons here, some of them lessons I need for survival, others that I feel like I could do without. I can't say that this experience hasn't taught me a lot. But mostly, it's just taught me how much I miss you and hate being away from you.
One of the things that really gets to me is knowing what my dad says about me being over here. He looks at it as a "learning experience," as a way of me "becoming a man." He doesn't seem to realize that I'm an adult, not the little kid I was years ago.
Not only that, but he thinks that I'm "not a real man" because I'm gay, and that being out here in the middle of the jungle will "make a man out of me." I'm so fucking sick of hearing that. I wish I could throw those words right back in his teeth.
But that's not something I want to talk about with you. I don't want our letters to each other to be tainted by the fact that he hates who I am. I don't know why I'm writing about it now, except that I'm frustrated that I can't make him understand why I love you.
Just another lesson to be learned, that not everybody is going to accept who we are. I would have thought my parents would understand and love me just because I'm their kid, but that seems like a really pretty pipe dream that isn't going to come true.
So many lessons that I've had to learn -- and not just here. I learned some of them even before I'd met you, like how to keep quiet about being gay. And even now, when society's starting to get less uptight about who I am, I still have to keep my mouth shut because of where I am.
What about you, babe? Are you having to do the same thing? I hope not -- but I also hope there's nobody making you question how you feel. I know my little sister might be trying to do just that, to come between us while I'm not there to get in her way.
It doesn't matter if she is, because I trust you. I know you'd never even look at anybody else, no matter how much they might try to tempt you. What you and I have together is really special, Jude. You're the one who made me realize that.
The toughest lesson of all is the two of us learning how to be apart. I just hope that it's not going to last for very much longer. I feel like I'm losing a little bit of myself every day, being so far away from you and not being able to hold you and feel you in my arms.
I keep telling myself that this can't keep on like it is for too much longer. You're going to be back in my arms before too long, and I'm going to turn my back on all of this and try to forget that any of it happened, or that I was ever here in this place.
That's not going to be easy to do, I know. But as long as I have you, I can do it. It's going to take me a long time to forget some of the things I've seen and done here -- if I ever do. But I'm going to try my best to put it all behind me once I've come back home safe to you.
There are probably still some more lessons in store for me before I get the hell out of here. I don't really want to learn them, but it's not like I have a choice. I've got to tough it out and just hope that I'll make it back home to you in one piece.
So far, so good. I hope that maybe I'll be able to put some of the lessons I've had to learn here to good use when I do get home. And I hope that I'll be able to remember that the most important lesson I've learned is that I belong with you, and that I never want to leave your side again.
Love always,
Max