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Everyone else is asleep. The camp is quiet. Inside the tent, Cabot sits beside Robert, their shoulders barely touching, the air between them with words they still can’t say.
Robert stares at the floor of the tent, fingers fidgeting into his jeans. “I keep thinking,” he says quietly, “maybe it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t come back tomorrow.”
Cabot turns to him, face pale in the lantern light. “Don’t say that.” Frowning.
Robert doesn’t look up. “I’ve done everything they asked. Led the men, followed every order. And still… l feel weak. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. Not in Boston. Not in Charleston.
Cabot hesitates, then reaches over and takes his hand. “You belong here. With them. With me, you changed their lives.”
Robert flinches away, but he doesn’t pull back. “If they knew—if any of them knew what I am—”
"I'm disgusting."
“They don’t,” Cabot says. “And if they ever do, let it be after tomorrow. Let us have tonight.”
Robert finally meets his eyes, and something inside him cracks. They lean in close, foreheads resting together, breath warm.
“I’m scared,” Robert whispers, stuttering.
“So am I,” Cabot says. “But not of dying. I’m scared of never having this again. I need you, Rob... We need each other."
Robert zoned out at the nickname, "We need to win this battle tomorrow. We have to keep going." The younger man replied.
Cabot didn't say anything to that, it was silent for a brief moment.
"I shall go with Thomas with the crowd next evening. I'll be the lead distraction." Robert mentioned, looking up and Cabot, his expressions changing fast.
Cabot lost his train of thought, staring at Robert, "What?! No! You can't! Just let somebody who doesn't have a family to go back to, please, what about the life we were going to have after we win? Send somebody, anybody but you..." Cabot rushed, but tears didn't build in his eyes, not yet.
Robert leaned in to peck Cabot on the lips, his hands palming the others cheek, fingers gliding against their jaws. He didn't want to hear it any longer, let's just see what the next day brings.
Fort Wagner, South Carolina
Robert was kneeling on the sand on his stomach, reloading his gun as fast as he could, no time to waste, heart beating fast. Pausing in between from the gunfire in the background along with the bombs. covering his head one too many times. And then gets up, "Come on!", Robert shouts, others following after him, the man next to him blown away.
'Come on, 54th' Was something he yells, confident enough, as though getting shot in the stomach didn't do much.
That particular bullet he heard rang through his ears like never before, it hurt Cabot as he couldn't speak. "Robert!" Cabot screamed-- watching his lover fall right in front of him,
but he gets back up, some relief running through, but in the blink of an eye, two more times. The heart. It's vital role in both physical and emotional responses to love. Robert fell back down.
Others screaming and yelling behind all of chaos, every single one getting shot coming near Robert, but it was too late.
It was after Cabot tossed his lifeless nude body into the pit with everybody else who lost their lives. Getting a punishment he didn't deserve. Cabot cried in anger, of how he didn't die. Why he didn't die instead of Robert?
The battle was lost, but Cabot lost his person. Not wanting to go home to his supposed future wife of his, he just couldn't.
But as everybody is back at the camp sight, to collect belongings going back to Boston, the last place he was with before the Battle, with Robert.
Grabbing his coat, gloves, Robert's letters, but one caught his eye the most, it was for Cabot. 'Me?' Cabot scrambled to pick up the letter.
The seventeenth of July, eighteen sixty three
My Dearest Cabot,
If you are reading this, then the moment I feared most has come to pass. Please—before you let anger or grief take control—know that this was my choice. Entirely, forever mine.
I chose to be the distraction.
Not because I believed my life mattered less than the others. Not because I didn't have my mother to take care of. I chose it because it meant you had a chance. You, and the other men, and the world we wanted back home in Boston
I know what you're feeling. Cursing my name under your breath, trying not to cry. You always hated when I made decisions without you. But you need to understand, I had to do this mission, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't.
You were always smarter. But in that moment, when we needed someone to start it all, someone the confederates couldn’t ignore—I knew it had to be me. It must never be you in my place.
But gods, Cabot, I didn't want to leave you. I wanted decades—old age, I wanted to wake up beside you when the war was just a memory, and we won. I dreamed of that life every day we marched. And I am so sorry I couldn’t carry us all the way there.
Please don’t let this break you.
If there is one last wish I can make, it’s that you live. Fully. Let my memory be with you.
Find joy, even if it feels like they aren't the one. You deserve that. You always did.
And if the wind ever went against your cheek just like I did, think of me, cause I will be there.
Forever yours,
Rob