Limits [BoyXBoy] [UNFINISHED/CANCELLED]

.:2:.

In case anyone is wondering, the weird 'raffle' thing which happened in the previous chapter was actually done in the UK during WW2. Maybe not exactly that but at least similar things. For example, games were held in public places (very commonly bingo) and determined who would stay and who would go off to war, because they were desperate for men. That's just a little fun fact for all of you.

Also something I forgot to mention is that there will be some possible controversial racial opinions stated in this story. I obviously think everyone is equal and I do not agree with some of the opinions, I'm just trying to put the views of people from back then into perspective.

And sorry for the lack of Kellin. He will be in chapter 3 though, I promise.

Enjoy.

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One day. That was all the time they gave me to say goodbye before they would drive me away.

Looking into the eyes of my family, neighbours, friends, the kids that I taught, was almost physically painful. I felt like I was ending my own life. Because that was essentially true. This here was my life and I was leaving it behind for a new one: a life haunted with constant fear and paranoia of the unknown.

I had spent the whole night shamelessly crying, as this was the only way to express my emotions. Everyone who shared my opinion on war knew exactly what I was feeling (even though they had not experienced it themselves): paralysing dread. But instead of talking about it, I sobbed hysterically into my pillow so that no one would hear. Why? Because my point of view was looked down upon, so I just had to keep it to myself.

To say that I was completely shattered was an understatement. I considered hiding, running as far as I could, heck! - even shooting myself in the leg with my father's hunting rifle, or doing anything so that they would not take me. But that would be cowardice and, although that may have seemed contradictory judging by how many tears I shed that night, I was not a coward.

I just wanted to make everyone proud, but at the same time I was terrified of what was to come.

When I finally woke up, after crying myself to sleep, I was greeted by my mother who had just entered my room holding a plate of food.

Our little setup must have been unusual to outsiders. By my age, 24, most men were already married or had at least picked out partners and would be living with them in their own homes. For us, it was different.

I was not blind so I clearly noticed many of the local women watching, or rather admiring, me from time to time with hopeful expressions dazzling on their youthful faces. To their disappointment, they were all ignored because of a little secret that I was hiding. Well, it was not exactly a little secret as I could probably get publicly executed for it. That was why I just kept it all to myself and, rather than being public about it, I stuck to keeping my eyes on some of the men, much like the ladies did to me.

I gazed up at my mother through thick lashes, just to see her smiling down at me. Although she tried to seem kind and reassuring with her facial expression, I could tell just how broken she felt. It seemed as if her face would crack at any moment and the mask she was hiding behind would tear in two, revealing the fear that she held inside.