The end of their first year arrived. Exams were finished and celebrations were taking place — and somehow, Edward had found himself partaking. He had tried refusing at first. A majority of the other lads were well-off, no need to count every dime spent. When Samuel heard of his decline, he offered to pay. Edward felt his own pride slip and, in the end, he accepted. He could afford a few pints.

"Next one, fellas! Drink up!"

Since their last exchange, Edward and Samuel had grown rather close. Polite greetings transitioned to in-depth conversations; they'd occasionally eat lunch together, watching the ducks in the park. Every Sunday, they ended up in each other's company at the pub or kicking a ball around. It was rare, however, that they were truly alone. Lisa, Samuel's sweetheart, would follow, along with Harold. 

Deep down, Edward was relieved. Samuel seemed very comfortable around him, seeking out Edward for the smallest of reasons. 

When he felt a weight against his shoulder, he wasn't surprised to see his blonde-haired friend slumped over, fast asleep. Beside him, a frantic Lisa tried to wake him. His jacket was draped over her shoulders, slipping slightly as she shook him. "I can't wake him up, Ed," her voice trembled as she spoke, perhaps worried she'd be stuck with a drunkard. 

This was only the second pub. From what Edward knew, Samuel wasn't a heavy drinker, only having a handful of jars before calling it a night. Unlike the others, who drank bottles of whisky whilst talking nonsense, he was one sending everyone home safely.

Edward glanced over at Lisa and let out a soft chuckle. Samuel stirred as he nudged him — no reaction. Leaning closer with a cheeky smile, he whispered into the sleeping beauty's ear, "Mate, time to wake up."

Those blue eyes opened, landing on Edward followed by a hand on his thigh and a firm squeeze. Fortunately, Lisa had wandered off to Harold. Every other lad had already left through the doors, making their way to the next stop. "I hear you." He smiled so brightly that his eyes were hidden away by the creases. "Are you okay... going to a few more?"

Edward nodded — though drinking wasn't something he had much experience with. Boys in his school would gather at the weekends for a smoke and a pint, but he was never invited. The first drink he could remember was with his brothers, a few days before Andrew's eighteenth birthday. Both were squished under the small staircase, George giggling as he pulled cobwebs out of his hair.

"Eddie!" George had cheered, "Our little brother, come celebrate with us." There was the tiniest gap between them. Andrew had given him a smile, nodding towards it, attempting to shuffle over to make more room. Edward wedged himself between them and saw the bottle - whisky. George pushed it into his hands, his eyes shining in the dim nook. "Have a drink with us."

The smell alone was enough to put Edward off. He couldn't fathom why everyone felt the need to drink the stuff. Their uncle would always gift their father hard liqueur on his birthday to "put hairs on your chest". It was always either regifted or left to sit in a dark pantry. The whisky they were sharing was likely a gift from him to celebrate Andrew becoming a 'man'.

An upcoming birthday meant his enlistment day was drawing close — and so was George's. A day they would both leave the family to fight in a war with a conclusion that was unknown. Edward had hesitated with the whisky in his hands until he saw the happiest of expressions on his brother's face. He took a long drink from the bottle.

"Easy there, boy," Andrew said, between laughter as he took away the whisky. Edward's throat burned and he choked. The older brothers had let out ferocious bursts of laughter. "Looks like he's a better drinker than you, Georgie."

George rubbed his back, laughing too hard. Edward smiled, too. To him, his brother was everything that was good in this world. He would have done anything to keep his happiness safe — and he still would.

"Ed, you okay?"

The clinking of glasses and Harold's voice brought him back to reality, a pint of ale sitting in front of him, surrounded by many empty glasses. These last months, he had been so distracted with the transition to university, finding work, and forming friendships that he hadn't had a moment to think about his brother. For that, he felt guilty. How could he, for even a second, forget the presence of a person who cared so much for him — how much he missed him, the gaping hole he had left in the family. 

Edward felt sick.

He looked to his left, seeking Samuel's comfort, but instead there was a fidgety Lisa. She played with the hem of her skirt, her head down. Everyone at the table was starting to put on their coats, so he shuffled closer.

"Where's Samuel?"

"He said he was feeling sick. I think he went for a bit of water," her voice was gentle, almost muffled. As she continued, she refused to look up. "He's never like this after a few drinks."

Edward felt something bump into him, a weight falling with two arms resting on his lap. It was Samuel. Harold walked over, lifting his friend, whilst the other young men all shook their heads. "He can't come home with us in that state," Harold said, still fighting to keep Samuel sitting upright.

"Why not?"

"Old man Jack hates drunkards. Almost booted me out once."

Lisa was fumbling with her purse, digging for a napkin to wipe Samuel's mouth. For a moment, it looked like she was considering taking him home herself. Just one night, her parents would surely be understanding... or not.

Cruel rumours would spread if they were seen. A gentleman entering a lady's home, alone, at night. It would cause a social scandal.

"I'll take him back to mine," Edward sighed, slipping into his jacket. Years of watching Andrew throw up his guts, his stomach was strong. Tolerating Samuel's drunk-self for a night would be easy — as long as he didn't cause a fuss. His parents would be in bed, fast asleep, and his brother would most likely be out cold. The possibility of bumping into Florence was the only worry... unless his uncle was staying the night, too.

"Edward." There was a tug on his arm. "Could you walk me home, too? Please."

Unlike any young woman he had met before, Lisa had moments of loudness, a laugh that bounced around a room, until she fell quiet. She was a kind person with a soft look in her eyes and a polite, delicate way of speaking. Whispers made it know that she was a lady many wanted a future with. Classmates were envious of Samuel, the one with the opportunity to wed her at any given moment. Edward could only hope that she'd take care of Samuel for eternity, clutching at his hand to stop a gust of wind carrying him away.

He nodded at Lisa and smiled, helping her from her seat. Samuel hung limp in Harold's arms, drool falling from his mouth.

Edward knew this would be a long walk home.

-

The air was cool, but he could hardly feel it. Samuel swayed closer with every step, the warmth making Edward's ears burn. With Lisa, he helped steady the blonde. She held his hand tightly, meeting each drunken groan with soft words.

They stopped before her house: red-bricks untouched by soot, a brass lion's head knocker shining on the door. Warm light illuminated each room, smoke floating from the chimney. A home like this was only a dream for his family.

"Thank you — for bringing me home," she said, words directed towards Edward though her eyes never left her sweetheart. She straightened his collar, brushing away stray hairs, her hand grazing his jaw. It was an intimate gesture. The redhead averted his gaze, an unfamiliar tightness in his stomach following as he heard their lips meet briefly. A sweet kiss followed by bubbling laughter.

"Take care of him," she pleaded, slowly retreating to her front door. With each step, she peeped over her shoulder befkre pausing to stare fondly at Samuel. A hand placed on her chest, Lisa whispered something Edward wasn't to hear, before reiterating that he be careful. He simply nodded, tightened his grip on his friend, and waved her safely inside.

For a moment they stood in silence, unsure of what to do next. Samue hadn't seen how he and his family lived. Worries flooded his mind. He wished he didn't have to take Samuel home — but there was no other option.

There was a cold touch on his hand. He turned, seeing Samuel with rosy cheeks and chattering teeth. "Eddie." A name only used by family. He added, "Let's go, please?"

As if under a spell, Edward nodded. Samuel slipped their hands into his pocket, their knuckles touching, and murmured something about the temperature. Edward didn't feel cold at all.

When they turned onto the street, Samuel looked at the narrow houses with missing slates and tiny gardens; his silence made Edward nervous. His eyes fixed on his own home - a house that brought him a great amount of comfort and love, even in grief. On his way to the University, he would pass Samuel and Harold's grand accommodation. Tall windows, indoor bathrooms, and staff that treated the boys like royalty. Yet, both always found new complaints that it wasn't as nice as back home, and the food didn't taste as good. If a house like that was below him, the dimly-lit terraced home would be Hell.

As he pushed the door open, he prayed that no one would be awake.

The kitchen was empty, and the hallway was quiet. There was Andrew, facedown and sprawled on the sofa, one arm dangling over the edge. Edward breathed out slowly. Samuel lingered behind, muttering under his breath. His eyes lit up at the sight of a half-empty rum bottle, and he slyly slipped the bottle into his coat pocket, a finger pressed to his lips.

"Mustn't waste."

"Bloody thief," Edward whispered in return. His heart was racing as Andrew stirred in his sleep, muttering curse words and turning onto his back. He didn't dare move until he heard snoring coming from his brother. Each step was treated delicately to avoid any more noise. A quiet chuckle followed him upstairs. When he looked back, he saw those eyes that continued to glisten despite the haze of alcohol.

At his bedroom door, Edward hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. A room once for three, now only two. Laughter had been replaced with silence, and the room reeked of booze and grief. Without Andrew's sleep-talking disturbing the quiet, Edward was worried he wouldn't be able to escape the nightmares.

A hand rested atop his, and the handle moved. His bedroom was now exposed — enough space for two metal beds and a large chest of drawers. The room's only source of light was the gentle glow of the streetlamps from the open window.

"It's cosy." The blonde drunk slipped by and shuffled over to the bed Edward had shared with George. From inside his coat pocket, he pulled out the stolen rum and took a swig before offering it over.

Edward paused, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips as he watched Samuel rock back and forth. He sat at the bottom of the bed and took the bottle away, placing it between his legs, out of Samuel's reach. 

"Everything okay?" He asked cautiously. He didn't want to overstep by asking a question that would enrage a tipsy Samuel. In the dark room, Edward could see his eyebrows knitted together as aggressively shook his head. "Lisa was really worried. You're never like this after two pints."

Samuel grinned and leaned back on the bed, throwing his feet up onto Edward's lap. He couldn't tell if the thud came from the heavy boots or his own chest. Edward shuffled, pushing the legs closer to his knees before beginning to unlace them. Leather shining, freshly polished. Samuel's words were slurred, "To help you... save pennies."

Edward spluttered, coughing as Samuel's words replayed in his head. To help him... save his pennies. He was unable to utter a reply. Had it been so obvious that the money in his pocket was disappearing faster than he anticipated? The cost of the first pint made him wonder how Andrew could afford to drink so much. For Samuel, those prices wouldn't have caused such thought. Anxious that his embarrassed thoughts were written across his face, he hid behind his hands, peering through the gaps in his fingers.

"I knew, you know. After the first... money was spent up." Samuel had propped himself up on his elbows; he continued to sway before hitting the wall and staring with such intensity. His expression eased and he closed his eyes, throwing back his head. "An excuse to go home... I knew that."

There was a pain in Edward's chest and his mouth felt dry. He took a drink from the bottle then placed it far away on the floor. Samuel groaned.

"Are you truly drunk?"

"'Course I am!" Samuel exclaimed before smacking a hand to his mouth, mouthing an apology. "Not by accident. Half a bottle." He giggled uncontrollably. "Worth acting a fool... to help you," he yawned.

The words lodged into his chest, like a secret he wasn't supposed to hear. He felt confused. He couldn't understand why someone as popular as Samuel would want to help him. In fact, it was a mystery why they spent their time together, being social opposites. Everyone else treated him with indifference. And yet, he enjoyed the new excitement he felt when he was around Samuel. A feeling so foreign to him. He couldn't tell if this was friendship - or something more. 

As he sat confused, watching Samuel wriggling under the blanket, he tried pushing the thought from his head, attempting sleep. He kicked off his own shoes and slid into the bed, lying top and tail.

"Ed."

Edward hummed, in acknowledgement.

"Aren't you courting?"

He let out a huff of air. "No."

"Have you before?"

"Never. No one has taken an interest."

Samuel's breathing was heavy and he paused for a moment, rolling over onto his side. "Odd. I like you - your company." His speech was messy yet earnest; Edward tried to not overthink the slurred words. "You're caring, attentive." He spoke softly, each syllable dragging. Each word was heavy. Edward clutched his pillow, watching Samuel speak into the wall. 

"If someone gave you their heart... you'd treat it tenderly."

The mood in the room changed. Edward stared up at the low ceiling, Samuel's words clinging to him. He remembered the gentle moments of love he'd witnessed: George stroking Florence's back during her pregnancy, his father holding his mother as she wept for her son. Small and tender moments of love that Edward was sure he would never know. 

"I appreciate your words, Sam," he whispered. Without realising, he shuffled closer, moving the blanket to cover Samuel. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Silence stretched through the room, heavy but not lonely. Both began to relax, Edward envisioning a faceless person he could one day cherish himself - until a soft tap startled him.

"Where is the loo?"

Edward laughed quietly to himself, relief washing over as the stuffy atmosphere lifted. There was no doubt that Samuel Carrington had never used a chamber pot before, especially not while drunk.