February 16, 1861

I placed my bags down by the door and sighed wistfully. "I guess it's all here,” I concluded as I stared down at the packed luggage with a frown.

I didn’t really want to leave him, but I had to. I needed to, even if it meant not having him anymore, but we would still write to each other. I thought we would write to each other.

I felt Tom come from behind me and wrap his arms around my waist. His chest was pressed to my back, and the feeling filled me with a sort of fluttery warmth.

This certainly does not make this any easier. Oh, how I love the way he holds me.

I smiled and placed my hands over his, lacing my fingers through the gaps between his. He tucked his head into my neck, and I heard him inhale deeply as he took in my scent. It was as if he was trying to preserve this moment because he knew it would be the last of many. He knew it was probably going to be the last time he would ever get to hold me—smell me—touch me.

"Do you have to leave?" he whimpered, his lips brushing over my skin. Goosebumps rose and came in waves across my skin.

"Yes, Tom, I do,” I whispered. I didn’t want to talk too loudly because saying it would make it reality.

I turned around to face him and put my hands around his neck. I had a slight smile on my face as I admired his features: his freckle on his right cheek, long lashes, and upturned nose. His high cheekbones stood out under his eyes, and that just made him so defined and handsome. He gave me a quick chaste kiss, but I pulled him back in, kissing him deeper than the night sky.

He pushed me back, though, and dragged his eyes over me before pulling me back to his chest. "You look more stunning in that coat each time that I see you," he muttered against my skin, referencing the black tailcoat I wore—the one with the warm-colored flowers stitched in.

I smirked. "Do I, now?"

"Oh, yes, most definitely," he purred before placing a short and soft kiss on my lips.

I thought it would be appropriate on the day I left to wear the coat he bought me. It was a little sentiment. It meant a lot.

"I guess, I should thank you; you’re the one who bought it for me. Care to show me how stunning I look?" I teased.

He leaned in to brush his lips against mine. Then, he let his nose graze down my cheek to my neck then up to my ear. He nibbled at my ear a little, and it made me tense up. My hands grabbed at his collar and pulled his body into mine. I heard him inhale sharply as I stirred up certain primal reactions. His grip tightened on where his hands laid on my body, and suddenly we were both trying so hard to restrain ourselves.

"I would, but we have a train to catch,” he cautioned me.

I would have protested his denial, but I knew he was right. So, I just groaned and pushed him away.

What an ass! Teasing is only fun if they’re actually going to fuck you. Otherwise, it’s just cruel, especially if you’ll most likely never see them again. It’s already bad enough that I have to leave.

"Then let's get going," I growled quietly before picking up my bags and heading for the door, but Tom came up behind me and slid his arms around my waist again, causing me to jump and drop my bags.

He kissed my neck softly from behind as he untucked my shirt and placed one of his hands on my stomach. He rubbed the area sensually before dipping his fingers slowly into the waistband of my pants. I gasped audibly and threw my hands back to grab onto his neck. I felt him smile slyly against my neck.

“The problem is that I don’t want to do that either,” he confessed, bringing his palm down lower until he began messaging me gently.

"T-Tom," I panted while grabbing onto his hair.

He hummed against my skin in response.

"We have to go," I continued breathlessly.

"You wanted this," he mumbled.

"Y-yeah," —I whined— "but you were right; we seriously have to go. I—"

I moaned loudly and found myself unable to carry on with what I was saying. I was breathing too sporadically to continue my thought, and I couldn’t focus on anything but where he was touching me.

I felt his warm, wet tongue dart out of his mouth and touch my collar. He licked his way up my neck until he got to my ear, making shivers run through my body. His lips brushed against my inner ear, and I was so close. I was so close.

"Then let's go."

He suddenly pulled back, taking his hand out of my pants and stepping away from me. Since I was using him as my support, I almost fell to my ass, but I caught myself before my feet could come out from under me. I immediately spun around to gape at him.

"Open the door, would you?" Tom instructed, nodding to the door, but I didn’t make a move toward it.

"What?" he mocked with a mischievous smile.

I did not answer. I just continued to stare at him in disbelief that he would torture me like that, especially since it was my last day with him.

"Wha-at? Are you astonished by my little stunt there? Yeah, it's revenge. Don't leave me hanging, love, and don't leave me standing up either.”

“Leave you hanging? You were the one that told me no!”

“And obviously, I was teasing you. I’m me; of course, I wanted more than that. I just like it when you beg me for it,” he countered, rolling his eyes as if this was as clear as crystal.

God, I fucking love him.

I sighed in defeat then grabbed his face and kissed him. "I love you."

"And I have no idea where you got love from in any of what I said, but I am not objecting." Tom’s smile curled into a genuine one. His left dimple made an appearance, and butterflies filled my intestines like the little whores they are.

He’s so perfect.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

I hung out the train door a bit, my carry-on at my right leg. I was gripping Tom's collar with both hands and pulling him into me. Our chests were touching, and our faces were centimeters from each other, our lips chasing the ghost of one another.

"We may not be conspicuous with our relationship, but this is pushing it, don't you think?" Tom laughed softly, staring at my lips.

"I don't care," I whispered back desperately. "I don't care.”

Our eyes met, and I pulled Thomas closer into me, kissing him passionately. Still, no one stared. We still looked like close friends. We probably looked religious too.

I broke our oral embrace and left my forehead against his. We both breathed heavily from both crying and the heat of our passion. I heard Tom sniffle, but it was then drowned out by the train whistling as it started up. Like a man pulling a plow, the cars strained before lurching into smooth action with accelerating chug-s. Tom kissed me again quickly and walked a couple steps with me as the train moved forward, and I felt the wetness on his lips and tasted the salt. And as much as I hated to, I let go of him as I was pulled away. Thomas gasped and reached out for me, but he didn't try to chase me. He promised he wouldn’t try to chase me. His hand closed as if he just remembered that.

I smiled weakly and mouthed ‘I love you’.

But he just stood there.

I watched as Tom grew smaller and the bustling train station enveloped him into their masses, and that was the last of him. He was no longer in my future, but I couldn’t even fully grasp that concept. For some reason, I still expected to see him again, even though I knew better.

I sighed and wiped the tears from my face, and I turned into the aisle to find a seat. Every compartment was full, except for one, so I had to take that one. Inside, a young lady already sat in the red velvet seats. She wore a blue dress with white trim, and the hem went to her ankles. Her hat was large and marvelous, meaning she was probably rich, but she was traveling alone. She rested her chin on her hand and stared out this window like she was trying to soak up the last of the city. I knew. I understood.

She was lost in her own little world, and I didn’t want to disturb her, but I poked my head in anyway. "Hello, madam, may I join you?"

She seemed to jerk out of her daydreams and removed her chin from her hand. "Oh! Yes, of course," she chirped, sitting up straight and tucking her hands in her lap like a proper lady.

"Thank you," I responded, and she nodded in return.

I placed my bag in the overhead compartment before sitting across from the woman. We sat in silence for a bit, but I soon found myself drifting off to sleep. The monotony of the train over rails and the comforting warmth of the compartment lulled me gently into slumber. I was about to lose consciousness when I heard her speak, which awakened me again.

"Sorry to disturb you, but that man, he is your … chuckaboo, yeah?" she inquired hesitantly.

I met her gaze, and I realized she knew. "Uh, yes, of some sort," I conceded uncomfortably, shifting in my seat to sit up.

She smiled, getting giddy, before adding, "I knew it. I've always had a sort of sixth sense for these types of things."

"Are you..." I insinuated, gesturing outward to her.

"While my adventures with women have been pleasurable, I also enjoy men as company,” she answered with a proud intonation.

I raised my eyebrows and nodded along. That was new.

"But enough about me," she said with a grin. Then, she leant forward a bit and slapped my knee playfully. "Let’s talk about you."

I chuckled awkwardly. "Well, what do you want to know? Maybe I can give you an answer."

"What I really wanna know is where you're going without your husband."

"Well, h-he's not my husband. We can't get married." Color rushed to my cheeks at that. A man with a husband? What kind of multi-layered disgrace is that?

"Pff, please." She suddenly dropped her smile and continued in a low tone, "You two gentlemen are married, maybe not in the law or in the church but in your souls."

"I'm going back home … to Mississippi before this war starts, so I can stay with my little sister on the farm. Also, I-I-I have an intended already. She was chosen by my mother. She's German!" I blurted out in an effort to reason with her.

I could never have married Tom. That was disgraceful, and I already had someone that I was supposed to love. Supposed to love, I thought. I couldn’t love her, though. I never would. If I couldn’t love a woman before, there was no way in hell I could love one then or now. The woman on the train knew that.

"Oh, honey, that's not a wife. That's just someone who you happen to live with. Do you love her?"

I bit my lip and looked down before answering the truth, "No."

The woman sighed, "Do you know her? Could you tell me her favorite color or what she likes to do?"

"No."

"Have you talked with her?"

"A couple of times."

"Is she here?"

"N—Oh, fuck!" —I jumped up and starting pacing— "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!"

"What is it dear? Also, you should know it's improper to swear in the presence of a woman. Actually, it’s against the law, but I’m going to be the last person to report you.”

"Yeah, whatever, but I realized something," I said exasperated, stopping to face her.

"Well, what is it?"

"I've forgotten to tell my wife where I'm going."