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"I'm afraid I'm leaving you, sir."
No. No, he won't let this happen, he's only just found Havers, and he loves him, he loves him more than he ever thought he could love anything.
"I shall miss you, Havers."
He shall miss him more than breathing, more than the warmth of a summer day or the years before the war, before it all went to hell. He shall miss him.
"Is there anything else, sir?"
He sees it in Havers's eyes then - the silent plea. Ask me to stay. He feels the words rise in his throat, bubbling up inside him until they threaten to burn him. Havers turns to leave, and he reaches out a hand, grasping at the air as if he could pull him back. The letter feels like a weight in his pocket, dragging his heart into his stomach.
"Stay."
There, it's out, he can't take it back now, and it sounds so damn vulnerable, so broken, that something in him crumbles beyond repair. The words hang in the air, lingering between them.
"Stay. Please."
Havers turns, lips slightly parted. He pushes the door closed. He takes one step towards him, hands shaking, tawny eyes wide.
"Stay. Stay because we need you. Goddamn it, I need you, Havers. Stay because I trust you and you matter to me and because despite everything the world has told us, I love you."
He falters, eyes shining. Captain isn't sure whether it's from joy or pain or something else entirely. "I love you, William. These last few months, finally having you, being with you, have been the best of my life. Stay. Stay for me."
Havers crosses the room in three steps, long legs tearing up the space between them like it's nothing. He kisses him and it feels like eating for the first time after a lifetime of starvation, a flightless bird finally touching the sky, a caged animal finding the key.
His Lieutenant leans back, just enough that their foreheads brush. "I suppose a direct order from my commanding officer could nullify my transfer request." He smiles, a small, secret smile reserved just for him. "I'll stay."
He turns away, the light catching in his dark hair like melted chocolate. Captain stumbles to the window, bracing himself, trying to hide the thumping of his broken-record heart. Havers looks back towards him as he reaches the door. "One more thing, sir."
He looks up from where his gaze is fixed to the window ledge, holding on for dear life to stay upright in a world that is doing its damn best to knock him off his feet. "Yes?"
"I love you too."
With that, he leaves, while Captain tries his hardest to keep breathing. He feels like he should pinch himself to make sure this isn't some beautiful dream. He lets out a soft, involuntary chuckle, the noise swallowed by the deafening silence that Havers has left in his wake.
-----
The days pass in a watercolour blur, a scorching summertime and air raid sirens and flowers that bloom in every crevice of the garden. Their relationship is not the desperate, scared thing it once was; it is life and morning sunlight and fresh coffee. Their secret is well kept, but they no longer feel like it is something to be ashamed of.
Autumn falls as richly as maple syrup, the leaves turning to shades of fire and burning embers as the weather cools. The Captain sits in his office, looking at a bird on a branch. He doesn't really see it. The door creaks as it opens, a soft breeze stealing under the floorboards.
"Ah. William."
"Evening, sir."
His Lieutenant sets down a fresh pile of paperwork on his desk, almost at the height of his chin from where he sits. He groans, hands already aching from the hours of work he knows await him. "One would think that the war was being fought in an office for all the paperwork they give us."
Havers winks at him. "Don't let them hear you talking like that. They'd probably make you sign something as punishment."
He settles himself down in one corner of the office, in the chair that he has long since claimed as his own, crossing one leg over the other. He's so bally beautiful sitting there, eyes like smooth treacle and glowing like an oil lamp. He takes out a notepad, scribbling something down.
"What are you writing?"
He glances up, a gleam in those eyes. "A story."
"What sort of story?"
Havers gestures towards one of the posters lining the walls. "Loose lips sink ships."
Captain sighs, rolling his eyes. "Back to paperwork then, I suppose. Keep your secrets." Havers stands, walking towards him and brushing a whisper of a kiss against his forehead.
"I'll tell you someday." At Captain's impatient glare, he gives him a wicked grin. "Would a cup of coffee make it better?"
"Please."
- 8 May, 1945 - VE Day -
The whole house is cheering. The sun is high in the sky and it seems that everyone is happy, every face he passes shining with joy. It's over. After six years, it's finally over. He walks the halls of Button House one last time, as much a home to him as any place he has ever lived.
He knows every creaky stair, every worn floorboard. He knows which oil lamps burn for longest, where his favourite books are kept in the library. He knows without looking the way to his office, to Havers's room. This is where he has belonged for as long as he can remember. It feels as if this was always meant to be his home.
Havers is already waiting for him in his office. He runs a hand over the wood of the desk, ink-stained and faded from the ever present papers. "It's a shame to leave."
He nods. "Button House. Who would have thought it would end like this?"
Havers laughs, the sound light and musical. "I wouldn't have wished it any other way." He glances towards the door, the place where he had stood all those years ago. "What would have happened, I wonder, if you hadn't asked me to stay?"
"Nothing good, I'm sure." He glances behind him, but the house is empty. They are the last to leave. He wraps an arm around Havers's waist, kissing him for the last time under the dappled sunlight streaming through the window. "I shall miss it here."
Havers smiles at him, looking like something the poets of old would have swooned over. There is a hint of melancholy in his eyes. "What now?"
"Now, we live."
- 40 years later, The Cotswalds -
He has lived a good life. The fates have blessed them with time and love and each other. The wind brushes his face with a gentle caress as he walks through the doorway into the cottage, the week's shopping under his arm.
William rises from his chair, wincing as his knees crack. His hair is silver now, but those eyes remain as sharp and clear as the day they first met. Button House was a long time ago, but it still seems like yesterday sometimes.
He bustles into the kitchen, carefully manoeuvring around the stacks of books piled high on every surface. They are all in alphabetical order, courtesy of his careful ministrations.
The record player sings an old song, a song of their past. William walks over to him, resting his head on his shoulder, arm around his waist. He drops the shopping on the counter, chuckling slightly. William pulls him into a slow dance, swaying to the crackling melody. "Where did all that time go?"
"Maybe you slept through it." He chuckles. "Violet and Caspar are visiting next week." The evacuee they had adopted after the war, when they had moved here to start their new life, and her husband.
Of course, nobody in the village knew what they were to each other. They had simply assumed that they were two old friends who wanted to look after one of the many victims of the war. They had achieved everything they had dreamed, even if the world would never have accepted them.
"I'll cook that pasta thing she likes." They break apart, gazing into each other's eyes, young again in each other's arms. "I found something I wanted to show you." He walks over to the coffee table, sparing an affectionate glance to the glass cabinet full of Captain's model aeroplanes. They were made in painstaking detail, each part precisely measured.
He lifts a small notebook from the table, the leather worn and cracked. "I promised I would tell you what I was writing some day."
"You took your time."
He rolls his eyes at his partner. "Do you want to see it or not?"
Captain leans over to touch a kiss to his lips. "Of course, my dear William. I appreciate everything you show me."
William bats him off. "Shush, you old sap." He opens the notebook, hands spotted with age but still firmly capable.
Captain's face sobers. "Is that-"
"The story of us."
He hands the book to Captain, whose eyes are aglow with something like awe. "You've really been writing this all these years?"
"I have."
He places the book reverently on the table, a precious treasure chest to be perused later. "I love you."
"I love you too."
They begin to dance to the music again, and unbeknownst to both of them, the book falls open to the last page. Written on the very bottom line in a neat, regimented hand are six words.
And they lived happily ever after.