Name: Surely to the Sea

Rating: PG

Summary: 1959. The United States is on the eve of the Vietnam War, holding together by the word of President Kennedy. Young men are soon to be shipped out to the frontlines. The unwanted war puts its toll on young love.

Authors Note: The lyrics sang in this story belong to Elvis Presley, Can’t Help Falling in Love.

XXXX

"Like a river flows surely to the sea, darting as it goes, some things are meant to be." His soft lullaby was barely above a whisper, hummed in her ear, his fingers lightly playing with the tendrils on her shoulder.

She shifted in his embrace, her cheek plastered to his jacket sleeve, smiling to herself at the faint squeeze in her hand. The wall was cold against her back, the floor warming underneath, providing an almost content nest for the two teens as they cuddled in the corner of the dressing room.

He continued the serenade, his voice as silky smooth as the King himself, head rested on his girlfriend’s. The room was quiet outside his song, void of the rabid chaos on the other side of the door, cocooning them in privacy. It was nice, the serenity of the moment, yet a tad intimidating all the same. It was difficult to be secure in the ungodly silence, as if there was no life outside of them.

She fidgeted again, trying to scoot closer, her skirt crinkling with the movement, rustling. He pressed a kiss to her hair then gazed down at her, craning back to observe her perturbed expression. The way her lips were set blankly, the worry lines wrinkling her forehead; an anomaly in her cocktail of optimism and delight.

Something was upsetting her—that much was clear—but he couldn’t tell what. Sometimes she was just such a closed book. Though, he didn’t know what bothered him more: that she was upset and wasn’t talking to him about it or that he couldn’t read her.

He stopped his twiddling with her hair and his hand slipped down to cup her shoulder, hugging her closer. "Are you all right?"

She glanced up at him, a flicker of surprise rearing its head before a happier face dominated. She pried on a not-so-convincing beam. "Yes. I’m fine."

He raised his eyebrows at her, tucking his chin in for effect. "Corrine?"

"Edmond, really," she strained uncomfortably. "I’m fine. It’s just something I heard floating around school today, is all. It’s really not that important."

"It’s obviously important enough that it has you in a fix."

Corrine stared up at him, eyes quivering, a breath of sadness exhaling from her lips. She curled a strand of honey hair behind her ear and swallowed. Then, wrenching from his arms, she stationed herself beside him, legs folded underneath one another, hands wringing in her lap. A look of adept seriousness unveiled itself; Edmond straightened on the wall.

"Ben was talking about something President Kennedy said, something about Vietnam and the agreement that was signed about Laos. He was saying that we might be going to war."

Edmond let out a nervous chuckle. "Corrine…"

"Edmond, if that war comes, our lives, what’ll happen to them? What if you get drafted and have to go fight? Things will change and that scares me a little. I don’t want things to change, not when they’ll be worse. I mean, you and me, I see more for us. A future possibly. I don’t want you to leave me and never come back. I…"

"Corrine…" Edmond said quietly, pivoting around to mimic her position.

Head titled to his risen shoulder, he hooked her chin, drawing her eyes to level with him. He had never seen her eyes so red. "Hey. You’re worrying about nothing. That’s just political talk; it’s all boring. That war that everyone’s predicting, the one everyone’s becoming scared of, it’s not going to happen. Not to us."

"You promise?"

He mustered the smallest assured smile. "I promise."

XXXX

He was called to ship out eight months later, donned in a military uniform, blending with the sea of green and black men waiting for the steel plane. His usually coifed ebony hair was a rag of unconditioned strands, stuffed under a tan hat. The pack that he was assigned, tossed to, the same number on his armband etched into the fabric, was at his side, kicked away like the life he was leaving.

Corrine’s parents stood off to the side, him holding her, her eyes swimming with tears for the boy that had been family since infancy. His sister, Michelle, stared at the floor, satin gloved hands laced together in front of her; their father, unable to bear the sight of his only son being cast off for a war he didn’t believe in, wasn’t among the departing wavers. Corrine’s father, however, surrogated that role with a gentle hand and loving hug.

Edmond wrapped his arms around Corrine, pressing his forehead to hers. She kept her rimmed-green eyes bowed, lips quivering, hugging her arms like a statue. If she held onto him, it’d all be real. This place, this terminal filled with families, would be real. She would be forced to reconcile with the thought that this could be the last time she’d touch him.

They stayed fitted together for minutes that felt like hours, for however time was allocated for them.

Then he kissed her passionately, cupping her cheeks, her hot tears wetting his face. She moaned in despair, back arching, his very touch painful. More tears slipped down her cheeks, one, two, three, and more. He clenched his jaw, swallowing hard, that painful swelling constricting in his chest.

He’d promised that this wouldn’t happen, promised her he’d be with her, yet here they were, bidding farewell for possibly the last time. God, he hoped not.

He gingerly wiped away the tears, thumb brushing her soft skin, causing her to hiccup and unwind her arms, hands pillaring on his chest. "Don’t cry. Okay? Please don’t cry. Not for me," he pleaded, voice cracking as his own aqua eyes crystallized with water. "I’m coming back. I will, I am. And when I get back I’m marrying you. Okay?"

Corrine nodded, lips mashed together. "Please don’t cry."

He drew her to him tightly, fingers raking through her hair. She pressed her lips to his and whispered a soft, "I love you."

He smiled and returned the hushed words.

Ten minutes later boarding was called and he was gone with a final wave over his shoulder, aviators already hiding his eyes, amongst the flock. He soon became lost in the sea, drifting further and further away.

XXXX

FIN

A/N: Very simple. Rather random.