They had each left town wanting their lives to be different.
They were now.
Johnny had lost himself in drugs, and fallen in love, and out of it again. He was different now.
Will had become a father, and lost his son, and maybe gotten him back. He was different now too.
And Tunny? Tunny had fought in a war. He couldn’t go back to who he was. And when he woke up with Will’s arm draped over him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back anyway.
“Hi,” Will murmured as he felt Tunny stirring under him. Tunny hummed in response, nuzzling himself deeper into Will’s chest.
If he closed his eyes, mornings like these, he could forget.
After a few minutes, Will spoke.
“Is it a quiet day today?”
Tunny, eyes still closed, leaned into Will’s hand as his fingers carded through his hair. He let out a sigh of breath, pushing away the pressure in his chest. On quiet days, he could forget.
“I’ll go make us some breakfast, then,” Will smiled softly, leaving Tunny with a kiss on the forehead. As the door closed, Tunny opened his eyes, blinking slowly against the warm sunlight streaming in the window. He pulled himself to the edge of the bed, and reached over to his bedside table for the clothes he had left there last night. A pair of sweatpants. They were soft and grey, and altered because he was missing a leg and he couldn’t ever get that back but he won’t think about that because today is a quiet day and on quiet days he can forget. There was a sweater, too. It was worn and blue and it made him smile because it used to be Will’s, and Will made him smile. Will made him forget.
Tunny slid his arms into his crutches, which he needed because he was missing a leg and had fought in a war and he couldn’t ever go back, and walked out of their bedroom into the main room of their apartment. He found his way to the kitchen, and went to Will, leaning himself on the taller man’s shoulders. He kissed Will’s neck, breathing in his scent of cigarettes (which he was trying to quit) and laundry (which he did a lot of since Heather was too busy), and remembered how lucky he was. All he had lost was a leg. He had had friends, real friends, in the army with him, and there had been a blast that had lost him a leg and there had been Theo and Andrew and they had lost a lot more than that. They couldn’t go back either.
Fuck it, just let me forget. For once.
“-unny? You’re here, Tunny, you’re safe. It’s going to be fine.”
Tunny let himself be guided to their table, let Will set him down and hand him a glass of water and rub his back. Tunny let himself cry.
He did that a lot these days.
“You alright?” Will asked, sitting down next to him and reaching for his hands. Tunny grabbed them, squeezing hard, and breathed again. There was still pressure in his chest, but Will took it away.
Will smiled, leaning into him and enveloping him in a feeling of safe .
“You know it’s not your fault, right? That you made it back?”
Tunny braced himself against seemingly nothing, closing his eyes for a split second and digging his fingernails into his skin. He knew. Of course he knew. He just wasn’t sure he believed it.
“You were making eggs. They’ll be cold,” is what he chose to say.
Will laughed, releasing his hands and bringing them to rest on Tunny’s thighs.
“That’ll be okay. We’ll go get bagels. Do you want to invite the girls?”
Will thought for a moment, because he had the time to now. “Will Heather bring the baby?”
“If you’d like her too.”
“Yeah.” Will’s son helped Tunny forget. He was so tiny, and so full of life, and it made everything okay.
“I’ll text them now. Your Extraordinary Girl, my baby, and his mom. Not a bad morning.”
“I won’t talk much,” Tunny mentioned, anxiety threatening him for no reason.
“You know they won’t mind.”
“Come on, T. Every day is a new day. We’ll make it.”
They leaned into each other for another kiss. It was soft and slow, and they closed their eyes as they bit at each others lips and breathed in each other’s smiles.
“Bagels?” Will asked as they pulled away from each other.
Tunny squeezed his hands, and they went out the door.
On mornings like these, they didn’t want to go back.