AN: Angsty war time fic with no definitive update time, but can be seen as a one shot if you squint and lean your head to the left?
Hell yeah! Haha, enjoy this odd pairing.
The year is 1969 and the world is ending. Or, at least it's ending for Daphne Grimm.
The end begins in the morning. It is a soft summer day, and Daphne is in love. She sits by the round table with some warm honey tea and stares at Charming. He is reading the newspaper, with furrowed brows, and keeps nudging his glasses so they don't fall off his nose. He frowns at something he reads and she smiles. Their routine of breakfast is comforting in the morning. She lets the sun tan her face through the large window. Her omelet on toast tastes unusually good, and she is in love and it is summer and of course the world chooses to end then.
So, it starts like every other day, but maybe if she paid attention she would have realized that there was something different. Or, maybe not- sometimes the end of the world leaves no trail. Except of course, the people who are left behind.
"Anything interesting?" She murmurs, tracing her fingertip on the rim of her mug.
His jaw hardens, "The war."
She nods her head, waits for a follow-up.
He takes off his glasses, and sets down the newspaper, "Baby." It's soft and sad and rips at her heart strings.
"What's wrong?" She reaches across the table to hold his hand, but he moves away.
"Will." She stresses his name, "Will, what's wrong?"
"I've been drafted."
"What- drafted- what are you saying, no. No." She recoils like she has been slapped.
"I found out last week." He looks down, but his mouth is set in a hard line.
"Last-" God, she can't breathe, can't form words, "Last- you found out last week and you didn't- Will- no. No, please."
There is a silence that falls between the two of them, a huge pregnant silence. She is shaking slightly, buzzing with shock and just the word no. He gets up with purpose and puts on a record. She recognizes it immediately. The starting chords make her weak, and he holds out his hand for her to take. It breaks her heart, it really does.
"You are the love of my life, baby." William says into her ear, and she can hear how choked he is. She is still shaking, because she remembers being seventeen, dancing on linoleum floors, with a man who she met that day, singing softly into her hair. How she asked, have I fallen in love on the first date? Her sister shook her head, continued to paint her nails with one hand, as she explained that love isn't real when you're seventeen.
She proved her wrong, but the thought makes her hold him tighter. He was going to Vietnam, he was going to war. He could die. Daphne's heart started to speed up, and her eyes became cloudy with tears. He loved her and she loved him. It should be so simple. War should not touch her, war should not touch those she loves. She believed in happy endings, but she heard the radio. She knew that so many men weren't coming home. He could die in Vietnam-
"You're thinking too loud." She feels his smile against her hair, softly pressing, and it only makes her cry harder.
"When do you leave?"
Say never, she thinks, tell me this is a cruel joke. I will hate you but I swear I will forgive you.
He is quiet for a moment, clears his throat, "Two weeks. Baby, I'm so sorry."
"You," She rubs at her eyes, tries to speak through the giant rock that's lodged itself in her throat, "You, uh. Promise to write, okay? Promise me."
"Course. Every day." And it sounds like he means it. She hopes he means it.
And then, he kisses her like she is the most important thing in the universe. More important than war and death, and all the things that have become part of their relationship.
Nat King Coles voice carries them through the rest of the song. He holds her even after it ends, dances with her when the record starts to play static, and then some.
The next two weeks, she kisses him often. Maybe too often, but she can't help it. The war is like a tumor and it is killing her. She listens to the radio, hopes for a cease fire, hopes the damn president will come to his senses. She tries to tune out the death toll.
The numbers come alive in her mind sometimes. And she hates this goddamn senseless war more than anything.
It's two days before he is set to leave when he proposes. He puts on their song, and gets down on one knee, offers her a small diamond ring.
"What are you doing?" She is seething, "I'm not marrying you."
His eyes grow a little, and he gets up, "I- I know we're young, but I'm twenty-one and I know that I love you. Baby, you are the best thing in my life. The first time I met you- I woke up. I could finally breathe, do you understand that? Daphne-"
"Shut up, I swear. Shut up. I'm not marrying you because you're not dying."
Charming looks down, and rags on his lips with his teeth. He almost looks guilty.
"You can't do this to me. You are going to come back and you're gonna marry me. You are coming back, okay?" She feels her chest heave, "Because I'm gonna wait for you. I don't care. I'll wait my entire life. Just." She takes a deep breath, "Just come back to me."
He nods his head, resolutely, but still his eyes look so far away.
"Marry me when you come back." She whispers, softly. Too softly, maybe. And she will regret this, later, because when the end of the world comes you can't spare words. Especially not important ones.
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