From England, With Love

Together Again

The painstaking journey of DofE comes to a close when we receive our certificates, and finally, we return to civilisation. The return to a mattress, shower, a proper oven – hell, even a regular ceiling – is warmly welcomed by everyone.

This return, I experience with Pete. We trudge along the route to my apartment in silence. I had offered to order an Uber or a taxi from school to avoid walking (which seemed, frankly, traumatic) but Pete forcefully refused. We walk in exhausted silence, the action of placing one foot in front of the other numb to our brains as we wistfully await bliss. Bliss being my bed.

I watch him slightly out of the corner of my eye. I know he's in pain; the bruises on his body make that very clear. I cannot help but feel proud of him, my sweet, untainted angel for managing to drag himself through endless British countryside and enduring the winter cold. But the injuries the stupid program has caused him... that I cannot ignore.

We slowly reach my apartment and I punch in the front door code as swiftly as possible before using my last remaining strength to push the damn thing open. If our bags hadn't been emptied of all school-issued equipment by now, I'm sure I would have collapsed. I hold the door until Pete is safely inside, and we silently, but gladly, let the central heating of the downstairs hallway wash over us before heading to my apartment.

It's difficult to describe the kick I get as my key neatly slots into my front door and at long last we reach the end. DofE was a great experience. But yikes, it did not need to be quite so draining.

I pull Pete's bag off his shoulder, rather unceremoniously dumping it onto the sofa. I grab his hand and start leading him toward the bedroom.

"... Ae," he whispers slightly, his voice cracking from not speaking for so long. "Ae, I need to shower first."

Something sounding like the cross between a grunt and sigh erupts from me and I shake my head.

"Sleep first," I grumble, swinging open the bedroom door and not letting it shut until he follows me inside. I pull my shirt over my head and begin to unbutton my trousers. I notice Pete stands, hesitant for a moment, but eventually starts to do the same.

Still chilled from the cold outside air, and our bones weary from the expedition, I tug away the duvet and clamber into bed hitting the empty side of the bed and looking at Pete.

"Come here," I yawn, perhaps more demanding than I meant but very quickly a cold body presses against mine. I instinctively wrap my arms around him, bringing his head to rest against my upper arm toward my chest and locking his body to mine by placing my leg over his.

I can feel my eyelids start to droop as our body heat, aided by the gloriously thick duvet warms us. Pete's head becomes more of a dead weight, and I look down to see him, not surprisingly, already asleep. His hair covers his eyes and his mouth is partially open; he was dead to the world. Cautiously, I lean over him and place a kiss to his cold cheek.

"I missed you," I whisper, resting my head back against the pillow and allowing my own eyes to fall closed.

The next morning I spent applying ointment to Pete's bruises before we lazed in bed watching stupid videos online. My arm never left from around him, and if he moved away for any reason I dragged him back to me. When asked why I was being so clingy I simply said, "I have a Pete deficiency", to which my boyfriend tried to appear unbothered, even irritated, but the blush on his face told a different story.

At some point in the afternoon, Pete begged me to let him take a bath. Naturally, I went with him, and the two of us crammed our bodies into the small space. Pete, still exhausted, let me wash his body and his hair with not much fuss. I had poured a tonne of 'muscle relax' bath bubbles into the water in the hopes of relieving the both of us of the tightness in our legs and shoulders, and it appeared to be working as Pete, like last night, began to feel heavier against me. My theory was confirmed when, after washing his hair, I continued to run my fingers through the wet locks and gently massage his scalp. After only a few minutes, his head fell back against my shoulder and I saw his eyes were sealed shut.

I let him sleep until the bathwater goes cold. If I had the strength in me, I would carry him out the bath and back to bed, but I know my limits, and I'd rather not drop him head-first onto the bathroom tiles. Instead, a shake him gently until his eyelids crack open.

"Ae?" He says groggily, slowly sitting up. "How long was I asleep for?"

"Not long," I lie, knowing he'd feel guilty if I told him the truth. "I'm going to heat up some soup, so you need to get up and get dry now, okay?" I'm conscious that I sound like his mother, but Pete doesn't seem to notice as he nods and gradually climbs out the bathtub. I follow him and chuck a fluffy towel over his shoulders, a deeper part of me not wanting to see his naked body for too long in case I... y'know.

At the hob I crack open a tin of Heinz tomato soup, as recommended to me by almost everyone I've met in this country. I don't have the energy to cook a proper meal and soup is warming, right? So it feels like a good option. I pour it into a pan and stand there, staring somewhat blankly at the reddish liquid inside. Then, Pete appears next to me, adorning a dressing gown that I forgot I even had.

"I was cold," he says with a slight pout, shuffling closer to me like an awkward penguin. I wrap my arm around his waist, sliding my hand into one of the pockets.

"Aren't you relieved we're done now?" I say, and a small smile appears on his face.

"Very," he says, "my group was nice but I was sad that we were split up. I wanted to be with you." He continues, quietly.

It's my turn to smile, his innocent words warming my heart. "Me too. All I wanted was to know you weren't dying in a field somewhere." I laugh slightly.

"Well we both survived!" Pete exclaims, somewhat indignantly, "I'm proud of us," he adds, more quietly.

Without really thinking about what I'm doing, I place my free hand around Pete's face, cupping his jaw and turning him to face me. "I'm proud of us too," I whisper, slowly placing my lips on his, kissing him. Pete kisses me back, and my hand in the robe pocket finds its way to his neck as my tongue enters his mouth. I feel myself start to want more, when suddenly he breaks away from me, his eyes panicked.

"What's wrong," I ask, panting slightly, and Pete points at the hob.

The soup was boiling and about to spill over the top of the pan.

I laugh in a combination of surprise and annoyance, grabbing the handle of the pan and taking it away from the heat.

Pete laughs as he readjusts the dressing gown, showing me that sweet smile, and says, "I think it's ready now, Ae."

A smile forming on my own face, my eyes flick between the soup and Pete. "Yeah, I think you might be right."