i started The Pacific like last week and i just finished it today (17 may 2020, at the time i'm writing this) and hoLY fucking shit why do i keep falling in love with so many fictional characters? i mean just look at chuckler's smile. what a sweet boi. cute smile. side note, why iS hE sO friCKEN TALL. lanky boi has a cute smile and is so adorable. i tried imagining an "enemies to lovers" trope with him, but like i could not come up with anything, boi is too lovable.
Warning: mentions of PTSD (more commonly known as shell-shock back then). prompt found on a tumblr post. post WW II au. chuckler is adorable and needs love. that is my psa. gender neutral reader. soft angst.
~~~
Neighbors were always an interesting topic for you. You had moved in and out of apartments all over, trying to find the place you felt at home. It was always entertaining to see what sort of neighbors you'd have every time you moved in to a new apartment building. You'd had your fair share of annoying, quiet, downright weird (neighbors or people, the list applied to both, you thought); the list could go on.
This time, someone new moved in while you had made your home in your current apartment. He came in looking tired and worn, as if he'd seen horrors he couldn't explain with words. It didn't take a genius to figure out he was a soldier who fought in the war.
You had met him when you came home from your job at the phone company one day. He was just settling in, a couple boxes sitting right outside his open front door. He stepped out as you were turning the doorknob, greeting you with a cheerful smile. But you saw through it; you saw the way he carried himself, the way he limped a bit when he walked, the way his eyes looked like there was a storm brewing in them.
You could work with angry people. You could work with quiet people. You could work with drunk people. But this man...
This was a broken man, and you had no idea how to work with one.
You returned his smile though, and introduced yourself, helping him settle in and offering your help if he ever needed it.
"I'm Lewis. Most call me Lew. Nice to meet you." he replied, shaking your hand. He had a cute smile, you thought. "And thank you for helping me out."
"It's the least I could do for a new neighbor."
Other than that meeting, you and Lew didn't talk much. He went out for most of the day, and usually came home after you did. You never asked him about it, he didn't ask you to talk to him about it, so you let him be. You often wondered how he coped with all those memories and all the pain, though. Bottling it all in and drinking your sorrows away was not a healthy way of coping.
~~~
About three months had passed since Lew moved in. You had bumped into him a few more times, offering him a smile or a small wave. He always returned them, a soft smile on his face. But nothing more happened between the two of you.
Not until one night. You had gotten home to hear Lew moving about in his apartment, thinking nothing much of it. Sure, it was a little change in routine, but certainly nothing to raise concern about.
Or so you thought. You had just laid down in bed when you heard a "No." being repeated on the other side of your wall.
"No. Stop. Let 'em go! Make 'em stop! Stop!" your neighbor cried.
You sighed, a sad smile on your face. That poor boy. Lew was probably around his 20's. Young men everywhere, just like him, gone off to fight in the war. And they come back like this, all bruised and broken on the outside, and shattered to a million pieces on the inside. They go in as themselves, but they don't come out the same.
"Hey, Lew?" you tried calling through the wall. He kept muttering and crying.
You tried again, slightly louder this time. "Lew? Lew!"
No response again.
"LEWIS!"
The crying suddenly stopped. A beat of silence, then--
"(Y/N)? Did I wake you up? I'm sorry, I'll--"
"No! No, you didn't wake me up. The walls are thin, though, and I heard you crying." You took a deep breath. "Are you okay?"
You were met with silence.
"Lew?"
Another beat, then an answer.
"I don't know. I don't know anymore."
You leaned against the wall, staring out the window at the street below. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." came the fast reply. "Not right now."
"Okay. That's okay. I'm here, though, okay? I'm right here if you need me."
Lew hummed in response, and the both of you settled into a silence. You kept staring out the window for who-knows how long, wondering if you should say anything else. Your eyes began to flutter shut, exhaustion slowly taking over the adrenaline from earlier.
"Hey, (Y/N)?" Lew's voice called. "You still there?"
You jolted awake. "Yeah. I'm still here."
"You must really be concerned about me, huh?" You could sense a small smile on his face.
"Well, just because you have shell-shock doesn't mean you have to suffer through it alone." you reasoned. "I'll stay up all night if I have to."
"You don't have--" he began, but you interrupted him.
"Do you remember what I said to you when you first moved in?"
"Uh, you said you would help me if I needed help settling in."
"And?" you prompted.
"And that it wasn't good to be alone all the time, and that I should find a friend to talk to."
"That's right. I offered my help to you that day, and my offer still stands, if I remember correctly. So this is me, as a friend, helping you out."
You heard Lew shift around in bed, then silence again. A faint yawn broke the silence.
"Hey, Lew? Tell me about your day."
"Well..." he began, yawning again. "I took a walk in the park. That was nice."
"Anything else?"
"Nothing worth noting." he finished, shifting again. "Goodnight, (Y/N). Today's been a long day."
You sighed. "Goodnight, Lew."
~~~
It happened again the next week. You woke Lew up again, talking with him about your day and what you did. He opened up a little more about himself and what he did that day, tell you he saw a crow hopping around dropping nickels at people's feet and--nicely--squawking for food.
"It was interesting. Some smart birds we have here."
You laughed. "Smart birds indeed."
Every week Lew would always have a night where his nightmares seemed to be worse than any other night. Each night you would stay up and talk, keeping his mind off of his nightmares. Lew appreciated the gesture, often wondering how he could repay you.
"You don't need to, Lew. You've done so much. It's time someone helps you for a change."
And so you and Lew bonded over the next few months, you talking him through the night and him entertaining you with stories of what he and his friends did during the war. It seemed that Lew was improving, that he was getting better about his shell-shock. He had nightmares still, they were just less vivid than they were a few months ago.
Lew made an effort to try and talk to you during the day, when he went out or when you bumped into him at the end of the day. You noticed the change in his eyes, the once dull look growing brighter again. They were still reserved and sad, but he looked considerably happier than when he moved in.
You eventually didn't hear him cry out in the middle of the night, and you no longer woke up to talk to him. You missed your late-night conversations, though. You always looked forward to talking to Lew. You thought he was better than he was months ago, now that he didn't have nightmares as bad as they were before.
You were proven wrong when a shout of , "STOP IT! NO!" jolted you from your sleep. You sat up and heard Lew crying again. It seemed it was at its worst since his improvement.
"Lew!" you knocked on the wall.
Nothing. You tried again.
"Lewis! Wake up!" you called. "If you don't answer, I'm coming over!"
When he didn't stop crying like he normally would, you pulled on your robe and made your way to Lew's apartment door. You tried jiggling the doorknob; it wasn't locked. He must have forgotten to lock it that night.
You slowly opened his door and made your way through the apartment to his room, knocking on the door and opening it. Lew was curled tightly into the blankets, shaking and crying. You made your way over to his line of sight, kneeling so he could see you if he was awake.
Lew's eyes were open, but they were glazed over, reliving a scene that wasn't really there. His brows furrowed in determination, his hands clutched tightly around the blankets. You caressed the side of his face, hoping you could ground him to the present somehow. You sighed and slowly sat down on the bed in the empty space next to him. His hand released the blanket and immediately found yours, clutching it firmly like it was a lifeline.
He was still shaking, still crying. It broke your heart to see him at such a low point. You ran your other hand through his hair, smiling when he gradually began relaxing under your touch.
"Shhh," you soothed. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here."
"(Y/N)?"
"Yeah. It's me."
"Can you stay with me? I don't--" he broke off, unable to finish his sentence.
"Of course. I'll stay as long as I have to." You looked at him, head next to you. "I'll stay as long as you want me to."
A beat of silence passed, with you admiring Lew's now somewhat calm expression. He looked at peace, if only for a bit.
"(Y/N)?" Lew asked again.
"Yeah, Lew?"
"Thank you."
"What for?"
"Everything."
~
this boi is so adorable and cute and i just wanna give him a hug