Chapter Text
Kurt Klenzendorf was almost able to relax. He was huddled down in a shallow trench next to his new Sub-officer. They were both chatting quietly, about home, about how much they missed real food. It was a quiet day and if he really focused, he could pretend he was just sitting in a muddy ditch back in Münsing.
His Sub-officer, Freddie, was going on about his hometown. A tiny place in Bavaria called Faukenheim. He was leaning heavily into Kurt’s left side as he talked. It was so cold and the Captain was grateful for even a little extra warmth.
Only a week ago, Major Feldmeier had burst into his office and demanded he take on a Sub-officer. He had said something about not overworking himself but Kurt was too tired to really understand. He pulled a list of names out of his desk drawer and pointed to a random one. It happened to be Friedrich Finkel.
They continued talking and Kurt learned that Freddie was new to the front. He had spent most of the war so far doing sad little office jobs. He had been excited to get some real action only to be extremely disappointed by shells and mud and cold.
The chatter began to die down with the coming night. One by one the stars were coming out. As the Captain stared up at the sky, he felt Freddie shifting beside him. The younger man adjusted to rest his head on Kurt’s shoulder.
“Don’t tell anybody but I really need to sleep,” he whispered.
Kurt grinned, “Sleep? Soldiers don’t sleep. We have pervitin for that!” he said, imitating the Major’s voice.
“Fuck pervitin, I need a nap.”
“What are you? A baby?" he joked. "Fine, fine. I won’t tell anyone."
“Danke.” And that was it. He was out like a light.
Kurt looked fondly at the sleeping Sub-officer on his shoulder. They had only known each other for a week now but were already good friends. He had to admit that the younger man was exactly his type. He was beautiful and blond and he made Kurt's heart melt whenever he entered the room. The Captain thought he might be bent but he was still unsure. He would just have to wait and find out.
The stars shined brightly above his head. This was the first clear night they had had in a while and Kurt hated it. No clouds meant it was colder and if a plane were to fly over them it would surely spot their trenches with ease. The starlight was more enough to illuminate the frozen mud at the bottom of the trench, casting odd shadows around the two.
There was a commotion from down the line and a high whistling sound from above them. Shells. Based on the tone, coming right at them.
Kurt jumped to cover Freddie but he was not fast enough. When the shell hit only 5 feet away it sent a large piece of shrapnel into Freddie's collar bone and he fell back into the mud.
Kurt took most of the blast. He felt a white heat spread across the right side of his face and chest. The vision in his right eye vanished and he screamed from pain. Shells were still falling and he could hear Major Feldmeier barking orders in the distance.
He dragged himself through the muck over to where Freddie lay. He was barely moving and blood had soaked through the thin fabric of his uniform. The Captain propped himself against the trench wall, cradling the younger man in his lap. Freddie stirred, balling his fists in the other's coat. He whimpered quietly as Kurt desperately called for a medic. His eye burned in its socket, it hurt to blink.
When a medic finally came he stuck them both with morphine. Freddie began to relax but he continued to cry softly into Kurt's coat. As the first medic waited for a stretcher, the Captain began to feel tired. The pain had worn him out and now all he wanted to do was sleep. He hoped that when he woke up his vision would have returned. A void like black seeped into the corners of his limited vision and he let it consume him.
***
The darkness slowly faded and the room around Kurt came into focus. He was lying in a hospital bed, staring up at a grey ceiling. Beams of morning light streamed through the tall window behind him. Bandages covered his right eye and most of the right side of his torso. Pain burned in the back of his mind but he pushed it away.
He was about halfway down a long hospital bay. Without moving his head, he could see other, less fortunate soldiers lying in the cots across from him. Some were missing limbs, others were wrapped in so much bandage that he could not tell what was wrong with them.
Tipping his head to the left sent waves of pain through his skull. He squeezed his unbandaged eye shut until they passed. When he opened it again he found himself looking at Freddie. The younger man was still unconscious. His right shoulder was heavily bandaged and large blotches of crimson seeped through in places. The sight made Kurt’s stomach churn. This was his fault. If he had just been a little faster.
Just then one of the nurses came to check up on him. She spoke with an Austrian accent as she asked Kurt about his arm and chest. He lied, telling her they felt fine. Then she moved to change his bandages. As she worked on his arm he asked about Freddie.
“He’s lucky. The shrapnel just missed his major arteries. Hopefully he’ll wake up soon.”
So Freddie was okay. He would live. Kurt had no idea why he cared so much about the Sub-officer. He sat up as the nurse moved to change the bandage on his eye. When she took off the old wrapping, Kurt opened his right eye to find, nothing. He could not see.
He felt panic beginning to rise in his chest. Kurt reached up to touch at his eye but the nurse caught his hand, holding it down.
“Don’t touch it. You’ll get it dirty,” she instructed.
“I can’t. I can’t see,” his voice broke around the words.
“I know, I know. You just need to relax. The doctor said that it might come back with time.”
Kurt nodded and held still as the nurse finished rebandaging his eye. She left once she was done, moving on to the next soldier in the cot to his right. He looked around for something to do and found a ratty old notepad on the table to his right. It must have been left behind by another soldier. With a little more searching he even found a pen. It was a little broken and low on ink but it could still write for the time being.
He slowly began to fill a page in the notebook with a small sketch. Kurt had first learned to draw when he was fifteen. There was not much else to do at the front so he started to try sketching the men around him. It quickly became a way for him to calm down and relax. After a shelling, he would draw the faces of the men he could not find.
Now he was drawing Freddie. He found it difficult for many reasons. First, even though the man was lying right beside him, Kurt could not seem to get his features right. He could not figure out why he was struggling so much. Second, his pen kept not touching the paper where he thought it would. He was beginning to get rather frustrated and just when he was about to give up, there was movement in the corner of his vision.
“So much for my nap,” Freddie whispered through gritted teeth.
He smiled, Freddie was alive. “What do you mean ‘so much for your nap’? You’ve been asleep for seven years, the war is over."
“Ha ha, very funny.” he said sarcastically. Freddie winced, trying to push himself up into a sitting position. When he looked over to Kurt his expression changed from mild annoyance to concern. “Your face, are you okay?
“Hm? Oh, I got some shrapnel in my eye. Vision’s gone but the doctors think it might come back.” He continued sketching. Freddie tried to lean closer and get a look at the notepad but Kurt shifted so he could not see.
Freddie eventually gave up and rolled onto his left side with a huff. “You’re being very boring and I’m still tired so goodnight.”
“Goodnight Finkel.”
The day was rather uneventful. Kurt tried to get up once but the nurses only ushered him back to his cot. The food was much better than the army paste he was used to so for that he was grateful. He spent most of his time sketching in the tiny notebook. It took a little practice to be able to use the pen. His depth perception was gone and it was difficult to tell where the pen would end up but he was starting to get the hang of it.
Once he was satisfied with his sketch of Freddie he moved on to drawing the flowers on table next to him. He had to turn his head unnaturally far to the right to see them and it was beginning to hurt.
At around sundown, the nurse came to redress his wounds. After she finished, she moved to check on Freddie. She gently shook him awake and helped him to sit up. He winced and complained but the nurse got his bandages changed.
Kurt caught a glimpse of the wound and swallowed bile. A large gash traced its way across Freddie's flesh, just beneath his collarbone. Stitches were barely able to hold the angry red skin together. When the Sub-officer moved his arm small droplets of crimson formed along the gash. God this was Kurt's fault. He was the reason Freddie was in pain.
When the nurse finished with Freddie's new bandages, she put his right arm in a sling. He seemed particularly sour about that.
After the nurse left, Freddie reached up and wiped at his eyes with his left sleeve. When he saw that Kurt was looking, his face flushed and he rolled over, pulling the sheets over his cheek.
Kurt sighed and lay back down. He placed the small notepad and pen on the table and closed his eyes. Or rather, eye. He only had the one now.