A/N: Welcome to this fun little fic! First, I would like to disclose that there will be inaccuracies for the time period/war. I did my research, but not everything I needed to know was available to me, so there will be some stuff that I've filled with creativity.

Onto the fic. If anyone has seen the movie "Sunrise in Heaven" I have loosely based this fic off of that movie. It's a Christian movie and I'm not religious, but I thought Jan and Steve's story was cute and my author brain wouldn't let that go. I will say that this fic is only based off of their life when they were younger. That being said, I use the term loosely because there is so much stuff that is not in the movie that I have added, like a secondary "love interest" for Christine and Erik is not active duty and served in the Army not the Air Force.

Also, I have decided to choose songs for each of the chapters, some will coincide with the theme of that chapter, while others will be the song I listened to the most while writing it. I've tried to stick to the 50s/60s, but I couldn't help choosing some that are a bit newer. Would like to mention as well, some of my interpretations of the songs will be different than what they actually mean and I will explain my reasoning on a few of them when the time comes. The title also comes from one of the songs for a later chapter.

The song for this chapter: "As Tears Go By" - The Rolling Stones (1965)

Chapter One

"The prettiest house in all of Vernon Parish and it's all ours, can you believe it?"

Erik Destler stood motionless, duffel bag strap gripped tightly in his fist, gawking at the massive two-story house nestled amongst a grove of oak trees. If it weren't for the stark white trim and ample windows, he would have mistaken the blue paneling as part of the sky. It had to be the nicest house he had ever seen in his entire life, far exceeding the monotony back in San Francisco. The only thing he could see wrong with it were a few faded spots on the steps leading up to the wrap-around porch, easily fixable with a bucket or two of paint. It was incomprehensible how something so nice could exist; though, to be fair, the only home he ever knew was a minuscule apartment tucked away in the middle of the city. But this, it was–

"It sure is something," Erik agreed, sneaking a quick glance at his friend who had his hands on his hips while smiling proudly at his new home.

Philip Baker, or Phil as he preferred to be called, had come into possession of the house through an inheritance left to him by his grandfather. It was the topic of many-a-discussion over the several months Erik spent in his company and the sole reason for his enlistment in the United States army. Luckily, his father only required him to serve the minimum of one year to assume ownership of the house and family dealership, as well as a large sum of money; not to mention a much smaller residence on the Anacoco lakefront. It was during the last six months of Erik's service that he met Phil, and ever since, neither has left the other's side. Normally, Erik despised any type of friendship, but Phil was a welcome intrusion, unlike many before who tried to befriend Erik. Not once had he requested to see what lurked below the leather mask covering the right half of his face and if anyone ever approached Erik to ask, Phil was quick to defend him.

It would be easy to say the reason for their friendship was a simple meeting, but there was nothing simple about it. As much as he loved Phil, Erik wouldn't say he was the sharpest knife in the drawer and there was one instance where that fact nearly got him killed. Under moral obligation, Erik saved the moron when he proved to be oblivious to command during an ambush on one of his first nights with the outfit, and, in turn, he gained Phil's unconditional loyalty. He supposed it did have its perks, like a place to call home upon returning to the States since there was nothing left for him back in California and Phil would much rather kill him himself than allow him to reenlist.

"Now all we need is a couple gals to warm our beds," Phil said with a smile brighter than the sun before gesturing to the car they had exited just moments prior. "No chance in hell with that old beater though."

"I'll leave that to you," Erik remarked, sensing where the conversation was going and having no interest in picking up women.

Phil pivoted on him, throwing up one of his hands and saying, "Oh, come on, Erik! Live a little! Don't you want to celebrate with me?"

"I'll gladly celebrate whatever it is you want, but I'll have nothing to do with a woman ever again," Erik asserted, bringing his fingertips to his mask. It was an effortless gesture to remind his friend of the fact that any woman who was in his presence for longer than a minute became morbidly curious as to what hid behind the mask. The one and only time Erik ever agreed to go on a date, she tore his mask clean off within a few seconds, not even giving him the chance to fully introduce himself. It was then that he realized he was better off spending his miserable life alone, apart from Phil. No matter how much he desired it, intimacy would never be an option for him and he had to accept that.

"Just tell her not to touch it–"

"I said no, Phil," Erik maintained, raising his voice to get his point across. "A woman is not in the books for me and I wish to keep it that way."

Phil sighed heavily and shifted on his feet before giving a quick nod and patting Erik on his back. "What do you say we go on inside? Getcha all settled into a room then pay the dealership a visit. I want to see if we got the new Aston yet."

With that, he turned away and made his way up the steps and onto the porch where he paused to dig in his pocket, producing the set of keys his father gave him earlier in the day.

Erik was thankful that he willingly changed the subject without too much prompting like in the past. Though, if he knew anything about his friend, it was that he was persistent and had proven to be so when it came to Erik's dating life. It wouldn't be the last conversation about women and he was certain another way to mention it was already brewing.

Erik joined Phil and waited patiently for his friend to enter the house before doing so himself, stepping into the foreign place and doing his best to ignore the strange must from the years it was unoccupied. Phil flipped a switch on the wall and the many pendant lights hanging from the ceiling illuminated the living room. It was unsurprisingly sizable given the enormity of the building, complete with dark oak-wood flooring and ivory wallpaper. There was a red brick fireplace on the west facing wall and two full-sized couches, both differing shades of green, situated nearby with a mahogany coffee table separating them. Dozens of paintings and photographs covered each wall; most of a boy that Erik could only assume was Phil.

Upon further inspection, Erik caught sight of a grand piano placed strategically in the far right corner, facing out over the entire living room. He approached it carefully and ran his hand over the polished ebony, shivering at the touch. Never had he seen such a fine instrument and he couldn't help but wonder if it was still in tune or if Phil would have any objections to his use of the old thing. By the looks of it, it had been neglected for quite some time, a thick layer of dust covered the keys and there were a few patches of tarnish and chips in the maple.

"It's a Baldwin," Phil said, pulling Erik's attention from the piano. "It's been in the family since the nineties."

"Would you mind if I fixed her up a bit and put her to good use?"

Phil cocked an eyebrow and looked on skeptically. "You play?"

A rush of embarrassment flooded Erik's cheeks at the realization that he never told his one friend of the only gift God gave him. "Yes, but never with a piano like this."

"If you get it all cleaned up, consider it yours," Phil offered, setting his keys on the table by the door and gesturing to the stairs opposite the fireplace. "The rooms are up there. Take whichever one you'd like, but not the one at the end of the hall. That's mine."

"Thank you," Erik said as he hoisted his duffel bag over his shoulder. "For everything, Phil. I mean it."

His friend smiled widely and plopped down on one of the couches, saying, "Go on now. I want to get to Annie's before all the good seats are taken but we need to make a stop at the dealership first."

"I'll be right down," Erik muttered, having forgotten their plans to get drinks at the local diner. While he enjoyed his time with Phil, the only thing that sounded even the slightest bit inviting was a nice long nap or the restoration of the piano.

Conceding to Phil's wishes, Erik climbed the stairs to the second story and was met with a long hallway, multiple doors on either side. It didn't matter what the room he chose looked like, so he committed to the first door on the left, pleasantly surprised that it had a considerable amount of room as well as a decent sized bed. The walls were papered in a color that resembled champagne while the floors were the same dark oak from the living room. There were two bedside tables and a matching wardrobe, all ashen gray and visibly worn. A window at the back of the room gave him a nice view of the property, in the distance, a weeping willow overlooked a pond.

It would be a lie to say that he wasn't curious as to what the other rooms offered, but he couldn't keep Phil waiting any longer, not when he knew how impatient he was. Erik tossed his bag onto the armchair in the corner of the room and turned to leave, but something caught his eye. There, peeking from behind the cloth which was draped over it, was an upright mirror reflecting only part of him. But it was enough to unnerve him, so he cautiously stepped towards it, keeping his gaze to his feet and drew the drape back into place. Being subjected to a mirror while in the washroom was far more than enough for him; he didn't need a constant reminder of what he was in the same space he would sleep.

A deep shuddering inhale brought moisture to his eyes and he did his best to blink away the tears. It had been some time since he felt any sort of emotion, let alone dejection, and he wasn't sure if it was in part of the sight of himself or the reminder of his perpetual want for more than a condemning look from a woman.

"Erik, are you comin' or what?" Phil called, his voice ascending as if he were climbing the stairs.

Dammit, Erik thought, wiping at his eyes to be rid of the pesky tears. Why couldn't he go just a single day without pitying himself?

Before Phil could make it up the flight of stairs, Erik entered the hallway and arrived at the landing, saying, "Can you be any more impatient?"

"I wouldn't have to be if you walked faster than a turtle," Phil said, bounding back down the flight and landing on his feet with a thud. "Hurry up, we don't have much longer 'til dark."

Erik followed his friend back outside and ducked into the passenger seat of the Buick, sifting through the cassettes before Phil had a chance to do so. It was agony having to listen to the music he chose the whole way home and there was no way Erik was going to be subject to it twice. After thumbing through the scant collection, he settled on the only one he recognized, ensured it was rewound, and popped it into the player.

As the first song started playing, Phil settled into the driver's seat and started the car, the old engine hardly sputtering to life. Just as he did when they initially drove the thing, Erik sent a silent prayer to God that it would get them to their destination in one piece.

xXx

By the looks of it, there weren't too many things to do in the small town of Leesville apart from the movie theater and visiting the surrounding lakes. Many of the storefronts were for shops that held little to no interest in Erik, though he could have sworn he caught sight of a records store on their first passthrough, but it was nowhere to be seen now that he was actually looking for it. The one thing about San Francisco was that there was always something to do on every corner, whether it was entertainment or a restaurant.

"Here we are," Phil said, turning off the main road and parking the car outside a building with obnoxiously large letters on its front spelling out "Baker's Auto".

Erik glanced around, eyes roving over the many cars in the lot before one situated towards the street commanded his attention, the raven black hood glinting with the reflection of the setting sun. It couldn't be…no, they only existed in magazines. Mindlessly, he exited the Buick and strode over to the car to confirm his suspicions and sure enough, a Shelby Mustang sat right before his eyes. It hadn't even been out for six months so how it got to a dealership in the minuscule town of Leesville was a mystery, but he supposed if they had the Aston that Phil was after, anything was possible.

With a trembling hand, Erik reached out and touched it, deciding that he could die happy right then and there. If he was ever to purchase a vehicle, it would have to be that exact one, but he knew that by the time he had a couple thousand saved, someone else would have already scooped it up. He did have a few thousand from his salary during his service, but he wouldn't dare spend it all on one thing, even if it was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

"This one as well, Steve," Erik heard Phil say. "I'll bring in a few grand on Monday to cover the costs."

Erik's brow furrowed and he looked back over his shoulder at Phil who stood with a man of stout build who could only be Steve. But what did he mean by "this one as well"? Surely, he couldn't intend–no, that would be absolutely ridiculous.

"Give me just a minute to grab the keys," Steve said before walking back to the building.

Phil winked at Erik and nodded towards the car, asking, "So what are you gonna name her?"

"Name? What are you–I–I can't accept this," Erik managed, stepping away from the car and trying to comprehend what exactly his friend was saying. No one in their right mind would give someone a car.

"Well, you will because if you don't, I will never forgive you."

"Forgive me?"

"For rejecting my gift," Phil said. "Think of it as payment for saving my life."

"But–"

Phil raised his hand and stopped Erik from continuing, moving to lean against the hood of the car. "It wouldn't hurt to call her Shelby, would it?"

"I can't accept this," Erik repeated, unable to believe what was being offered to him. He felt like a fool turning it down, but it was a car not a room in someone's house.

"Kinda looks like a Susie…"

Exhaling heavily, Erik concluded that there was no denying his friend; he had to accept the vehicle but would be sure to save up enough money to pay him back in due time.

"I don't know how to thank you," he whispered as he touched the–his car again. "She's beautiful. Just like the one in the magazines."

"No thank you is needed," Phil said, pushing off the hood as Steve approached. "Consider us even."

Steve wordlessly held out two pairs of keys, one to Erik and one to Phil, each taking their corresponding set, before he occupied himself with a man who had just walked onto the lot. Erik rolled the keys in his hand, a wide smile on his face at the realization that his first ever car was the only one he ever wanted.

"What do you say we head on over to Annie's for a couple of drinks?"

"Only drinks," Erik warned, though he knew Phil had other plans for himself.

"Only drinks."