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The Storm Hidden Deepest Inside

Content warning: War/violence/brief scene of a panic attack

Daniel hated the cold. It wouldn’t let him sleep and it distracted him from his work. But this time, when yet another cold gust of wind blew through the now-ajar door, he didn’t flinch a bit. Nothing could replace the cold inside him now. Not the regular kind of sickness, but a hollow, cold feeling deep inside his gut. Emptiness. As he glanced down at his rough, calloused palms that had, so many months ago, been soft and warm, the words kept ringing in his ears.

“Friendship means nothing to you! You’re the kind of bloke who pretends to be happy for others but is secretly reeking of jealousy within!”

They were as clear as they had felt an hour ago, when Charlie had spat them out at him, his brown eyes flared up with rage. They had been fighting over something stupid — Charlie’s superb skills at flying and shooting down the enemy. It sounded just like a game he used to play as a child, sitting in the treetops outside his house with a wooden toy gun to ‘shoot down’ the enemy in the tree opposite. Not that it wasn’t still a game, it most certainly was. Only now it was a game where the opponent was strapped in a single seat for hours, clad in rough attire and goggles that made his eyes look like those of a monstrous insect swooping down upon you. And he wasn’t a child anymore.

Charlie had always loved the game. His mastery of the required skill made him a popular guy among the group. Since Day One he was the Star of the Sky and he enjoyed all the attention. He was the one everyone on the other side feared. But was there really an ‘other side’? The people on the other side were really just like them.

That was all they had been talking about, when one thing led to another and an argument broke out, the same way a fight could erupt any time during the game in the clouds that they now played everyday. Daniel confessed that this game was nothing like he had hoped it would be and that Charlie, although talented and brave, wasn’t really getting anything out of it.

It was a grossly wrong choice of words on his part, he could admit that. Though the words came from a place of sadness, a deep pit of bitter disappointment in the bottom of his stomach, to Charlie, it easily came off as jealousy.

They yelled at each other like never before. Daniel made desperate attempts to explain himself, trying to correct his thoughtless stupidity, but the thing about Charlie was that once his usually cheerful, upbeat self transitioned to his furious self, there was no way of bringing him back out of it for a long time. Eventually Daniel gave in to the abuses being hurled at him and yelled a stream of unkind words back.

“You’re never happy for me -”

“You can’t force me to be a cheery clown like you all day!”

“You’re not a true friend! A true friend would never say I achieved nothing! I don’t buy it!”

“I don’t buy it either, I never said that! A true friend wouldn’t accuse me of something despite me explaining myself!”

“You’re jealous, admit it already! And always so down and sulky now! You’re nothing like when we first -”

“I can’t be!! Can you not see all this? Everything that’s going on every single day! How can anyone stay happy in a situation like this??,” Daniel had cried out, tears emerging in his own hazel eyes. It was at this point that his voice escalated in tone from anger to desperation. Pleading.

Eventually Charlie had stormed off, leaving the door of their little Nissen hut ajar. Daniel kicked the round table in frustration, throwing himself onto his bed with his head in his hands. How temperamental Charlie was — a bomb that could explode any minute. Just like the bombs that could be dropped on the people living on the land they flew over all day…

He shook his head as if trying to shake the thought away. He had no idea how he was going to face tomorrow. Another normal day, just like the normal schedule he had been following for several months. But he still could not. It was sickening, exhausting…brutal, being up there. Charlie and he made it a point to always share a smile and wish each other luck before going their ways. It was one thing that he looked forward to. Something that, no matter how remote, gave him a ray of positivity, a sense of affection, in this new world that was only cold (another reason for him to hate it) and calculating. A world where there was no room for emotion. And Charlie’s broad, sweet smile was something that drew him in like nothing else. In fact, it was one of the first things that he had noticed about him when they were billeted together in the same hut. Despite his temper, it was a smile that radiated love and an infectious energy that he hadn’t seen or felt in ages. An almost handsome smile…

But then he recalled the cutting words that had hurt him so much. No, he didn’t need a friend like Charlie. I’ll do just fine without him, he told himself forcefully, as he tucked himself into bed.

On the chair beside the bed lay a newspaper that they had been reading earlier. The latest news headline, printed in bold black letters, read, “Almost A Year Since US Joined Allies Against Germany: War Machines Running At Full Speed”. The date was March 15th, 1918.

***

Charlie had not gone far from the hut. It wasn’t very late but he knew better than to stay out for long after hours in the freezing air. Even so, the boiling anger inside him provided enough distraction for him to ignore the chill in his bones. Why couldn’t Daniel lighten up for once? Had he known he’d have such a boring roommate who could feel the blues at any moment he’d have had his hut changed.

When the boys had met, Charlie had immediately resigned himself to the fact that they wouldn’t get along; Daniel was too shy, the more serious and reserved type. He on the other hand was boisterous and outgoing. He knew the war was going to be an adventure. Daniel hadn’t really thought so: he was proud to serve his country but deep inside, highly apprehensive of this whole ordeal at the same time. They both came from Kansas, Charlie living alone with his aunt and Daniel from a rich family. In fact, he lived in a beautiful mansion with its own private grounds. Charlie kicked a pebble, his boots scraping against the dirt and producing a rough, drawn out noise in the silence that grated his ears and made him cringe.

“They’re all the same,” he muttered to himself under his breath. Filthy rich people. That’s why he’s so bitter.

But he had been wrong. As the days passed on, they had nothing to do but talk to each other. At least, during the time they spent on the ground. The rest of their hours were spent twisting and turning in the air in bird-shaped machines that were equipped with whirring blades in the front and another machine that was simultaneously used to drill holes into the opponent flying a few yards away. Daniel had been more intelligent than he had thought. He was really rather sweet and helpful to everyone around. He had a vivid imagination paired with deep thoughts about everything and everyone around. He wrote poetry — the only way Charlie had discovered that was when he snatched a notebook out of the boy’s hand, something that he had been trying to keep meticulously hidden owing to his debilitating shyness.

Charlie loved entertaining people. He was a flirt amongst girls. He’d make Daniel laugh out loud with his childish jokes. They spent nights huddled in their beds, facing each other, whispering and talking as if they couldn’t get enough of each other’s company. Jokes about the sulky warden at the camp, stories about all the girls they’d ever had crushes on and exchanges of each other’s interests and hobbies soon melted the ice and gave way to deeper conversations about their families, what they wanted in life and of course, about the war. Charlie was always looking for something new, something exciting to do. Daniel was more stable, more down-to-earth. He had a deep love for music and for books. It was almost like they were a balance for each other’s personalities. Deep down, the reason he had stormed off was not because he was angry, which he was. It was fear. Fear of knowing deep inside, but not wanting to admit, that Daniel was right about this whole ordeal. He wasn’t getting anything out of it. Only a sense of futility.

Even now, he still remembered Daniel’s blushing cheeks as he read the poem he had written on the day Charlie had discovered his precious notebook. It was a poem about family and love.

He had chuckled, “Well I haven’t really got a family now, have I? But you do, so you must know what it feels like to have one”.

A strangely forlorn look had clouded Daniel’s eyes at that moment. “Having a family doesn’t mean you’re never lonely”.

Charlie had looked up, a light frown twisting his eyebrows. “Meaning?”

Daniel sighed. “It’s not a question of how many people are there around you. What matters is how many people around you are willing to listen to you”.

He turned away, and continued softly, almost as if talking to himself, “I haven’t got any such person for me. No one wants to really talk to me.” Charlie flopped down beside him, slapping an arm around his shoulder. “What am I here for then, you idiot?”

Daniel’s mouth stretched into a half-smile, a tiny speck of gratitude spreading through his hazel orbs.

Those hazel eyes. Charlie loved looking at them.

***

It was getting close to him again. The images. The sounds. The sensation in his gut. The sweat was going down his neck and forehead. All coming back to him…

First, he saw a pretty girl with long blonde hair — she was his neighbor, and his longtime teenage love. Or maybe his old love: they hadn’t spoken in months. She was standing, smirking knowingly at him. The image of her suddenly transformed into his parents, standing in the living room of their mansion, fighting once again. His father was fuming with fury. His mother was a mess, her face streaked with tears. He felt like he was a child again, standing right there, watching them both break away from their usual poised and well-mannered selves. Watching both his parents transform into two individuals who detested each other with a passion. Two individuals who hadn’t ever been able to connect with him. Two strangers.

He was so close to them. And yet, he was so far away. The streaks of tears on her face reminded him of how the metal birds looked from the ground, just black streaks against the grey sky. Spots of black paint on a canvas that was filled to endless edges with grey watercolor. When he saw them from the ground, he was so far away from them. And yet, he was close, for he knew how it felt to be sitting in one of them. Tightly strapped and trapped in one place for hours.

The living room of his house flew far away from his sight.

He was now in the open air. Not fresh air, but smoky, contaminated air. He was strapped down, unable to move more than four inches ahead. Panic setting inside him now, churning and frothing. He was being chased. Ahead of him, there were only dark clouds. Or was it a large billow of smoke from one of the bombs dropped? He felt his breath catching in his throat, blood pounding in his ears. It was so hard to breathe, so hard to think…

Daniel awoke with a gasp, fighting his bedsheets, completely disorientated. A buzzing sensation was running along his skin. He had been dreaming. But it had all been so real and for a second, as he sat, he thought it was all happening to him. It had felt like it was indeed happening again.

His eyes moved to the door. He could tell it was early morning by the foggy mist and faint, mildewed smell that hung in the air. Turning to his right, he caught sight of Charlie, huddled asleep on his bed. Before he could let out a relieved sigh, memories of the previous night flooded back into his mind, along with another realization: they had to get ready for dawn patrol.

It was a bleak day. Had they not known it was seven in the morning, it would’ve been impossible to tell whether it was morning or night. Charlie and Daniel inadvertently exchanged glances before getting into their respective planes. For a moment, Daniel had gazed in earnest. It seemed that they were going to connect, call out to each other. Maybe even a wave. But Charlie felt the anger resurging. He swiftly turned away, jaw clenched, preoccupying himself with starting the engine. A thoroughly disappointed look swept across Daniel’s face, before he shook himself out of his reverie and pulled the tight goggles down over his eyes. I don’t need him.

The engines whirred to life. The American fighter planes raced on the barren ground, before pointing upwards and sailing into the vast grey expanse one by one, like eager birds of prey.

***

Daniel had no idea where he was headed. He felt stupid. A pilot absolutely needed to know his way. But the dark grey clouds hung over him as he flew steadily, making it difficult to see clearly, the wind whipping in his face. He knew that it was only a matter of time before those distant dark clouds rolled over him, bringing a storm. Charlie was nowhere in sight. The feeling of being all alone in an endless array of clouds made him uneasy. It was too calm.

He felt a fat raindrop splash onto his arm. Suddenly he was in a full-blown rain shower. The water plastered his leather helmet and silky scarf to his head and neck. The lump in his throat was growing bigger. He scanned his surroundings for someone who might be in sight. Especially a certain someone whose reassuring look he so desperately needed…

And then, as if like an answer to his doubting mind, two planes appeared up behind him. Two German biplanes.

Daniel leaned forward, piloting his plane away from them as fast as possible as they chased after him. He couldn’t believe it — it was just like his dream. Bolting like a hare from hounds, he dashed through the pouring rain, twisting in every direction possible. His arms felt terribly stiff. Talons of terror seemed to have grabbed him from behind. Nausea enveloped his stomach, his heart thudding against his constricted ribcage and pounding in his ears. The rain was beating down upon him even harder now. To his horror, his goggles were too wet for him to be able to see anything. His vision became disfigured, like he was looking through a fish-eye lens. His hands clutched the steering wheel so tight his nails dug into his palms, his knuckles turning white. Breathing became hard. Very hard. As if he were physically running away from the planes now hot on his heels.

There was the unmistakable sound of a machine gun. It guffawed as bullets were driven into the sides of his plane. It shook violently, as if there had been an earthquake. He flew faster than ever, his back hurting from leaning forward so much. His mind was full of dread. His trousers, the layers of shirt and vest he wore underneath, his belt, his tie, long leather coat all were suddenly suffocating him. Even his watch felt unbearable on his left wrist.

Then, a bullet hit him square in the left shoulder. Such was the impact that it knocked the wind out of him. Instinctively, his hand flew up, pressing hard into the wound, minuscule streams of blood bursting into life and flowing down the taut skin of his hand. Sharp pain radiated through him as his entire left arm lay paralyzed and useless.

Smoke billowed through the air, forcing a hacking cough up out of his throat. His plane was on fire. More deafening bellows from the machine guns behind. He cried out hard in frustration, tears rushing down his face; he tore off the hopeless goggles with his right hand and used it to maneuver the plane straight downwards to what looked like a large, murky water body. A river.

There was a huge splash and the fire hissed as it began to die out. Daniel dragged himself out of the cockpit, struggling to lift his body onto the bank — thankfully, he had landed near it. The water seeped into his clothes, slurping greedily onto the fabric of his coat and threatening to suck him back down with its weight. His helmet and goggles were lost.

The planes were nowhere in sight. A shout permeated the air. Lifting up his head, his eyes saw in front of him several yards away, a long line of soldiers, all shouting in German. Next there were several loud bangs and another bullet joined the first one, piercing his upper torso. Unable to stand anymore, he felt himself fall forward on the brown grass. His palms slammed hard into the rocky ground. Vision turned blurry. He was falling deep, deep into an abyss. He was never going to see anyone again. Never see that amazing smile that he pined for. And the smile burst clearly into his head as he descended into blackness…

***

Soft murmurs. A damp smell. He was in a semi-conscious state, trying to arouse the other half of his brain into action. He remembered the moments up until he fell to the ground with such velocity. Now he had no idea where he was. He could feel the presence of people around him. Who they were he did not know either. But he could sense the tension surrounding him as well as the feeling of something hard — and yet comforting — against his back: he was lying on a wooden bench. In the distance, somewhere to his left, voices were faintly audible. The abrupt sound of intense footfalls filled the room, heavy breathing and then…a familiar voice that felt like a wave of relief washing over him. “Oh my God! Danny! No -!”

His eyes flew open and his mouth stretched into a weak smile, mirroring the one he had seen just before losing consciousness. The one that he had been pining for. Hazel eyes met brown. Charlie was leaning over him, his face scrunched up and red. His eyes were bloodshot, full of distress. He was sputtering, trying to get out an incoherent string of words.

“Oh hell! Thank God you’re safe Danny! We heard…heard…news..,” he gasped for breath, “..that a pilot had crashed badly and been shot down…we…thought…thought you were dead…you were missing for so long and -” he paused, panting again. It was clear he had been running hard minutes ago.

Daniel opened his mouth. When he spoke, his voice was raspy — his throat hurt and his mouth was dry. “I crashed into…into a river…and then -”

He broke off, the little strength he had mustered to speak leaving his body. Only now did he realize where he was: a house, filled with bright lights. He was staring up at a wooden roof and around him were a woman (who must be the owner of the house) and a few older army men fumbling with what looked like first-aid kits. It was dark outside.

He turned back to Charlie, attempting to raise his right arm but let out a moan of defeat. He was suddenly aware of the throbbing, searing pain that was running not only all over his left arm and shoulder, but on his entire right side as well: the injuries from where the bullets had hit him. His shirt was half open, most of his clothes still on for sake of the biting cold and he could feel secure bandages wrapped around him. Charlie was openly sobbing now. Unable to control himself, he put his head onto Daniel, crying into his chest. It hurt him, but he didn’t care. He hugged back as much as he could. They ran fingers through each other’s dark hair, stroking it gently. Tears ran down Daniel’s head, dripping onto his ears.

Charlie looked back up. “Oh Danny, I — you, you were taken by some English soldiers — they found you in time before those Germans could capture you. And brought you here.”

“Well…now here I am. With you.” Daniel smiled through his tears.

They gazed at each other, unblinking, almost as if afraid they’d lose sight of each other forever if they did.

“Charlie..,” he swallowed, trying his best to speak steady, “..I — I didn’t mean any of what I said in a bad way…I didn’t..I’m sorry I -”

“No don’t. I’m sorry..,” Charlie leaned closer to him, his eyes sparkling, “I’m sorry I left you..said those things…I shouldn’t have..”. Another soft sob escaped him.

Daniel traced his fingers down Charlie’s jawline, caressing his cheek. Lovingly.

And at that point, they didn’t care who was watching. Or who was listening. Or who was even there. All that mattered was each other. There was no point in hiding it anymore. They both had had their own storms to deal with. Layers of storms raging inside. Layers that they were both on the journey of slowly unraveling. Storms they had to surpass. Storms they had to dig deep and bring out.

And yet, the storm hidden deepest inside…the little secret that neither could forget, that neither could say out loud for fear of shame, was the one that had surfaced the fastest. Completely unexpected.

There was no shame anymore. War had shame. Bloodshed had shame. The guffawing guns, wailing shells and hissing green gas had shame. The glorious but empty words they had been taught for so long had shame.

But love had no shame. Love had pride. Charlie leaned down. Daniel leaned up. Their lips met and locked, in a moment that could only be described as perfection.

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