He needn't look over to see what was spotted. Edward knew. There was only one photograph displayed by his mother in the kitchen — a family picture from George's wedding. Taken on a breezy autumn day, yet everyone huddled close to celebrate the joining of two families. Andrew had been fortunate to return home before being sent overseas. Outside the Church doors each person wore a toothy smile.  

It was the last family picture before losing George. A constant reminder of a happier day for his mother and father.

Hesitantly, Edward walked closer, watching the blonde stare up at the photograph, leaning forward. "Taken at my brother's wedding," Edward said. He pointed at the groom; his tie was crooked. "It was his first time wearing a suit. Had his wife do up his tie."

The fond memory softened his face.

"My, are you the only redhead in your family?" Samuel asked, casting a gaze over. Edward continued to stare at George, feeling Samuel's eyes drifting over him. He nodded; a gentle burst of laughter escaped from his friend.

"You're quite something, aren't you?" Samuel said between chuckles. "You all look so happy. Especially your brother, what a handsome chap!" There was a speck of dust on the frame that Samuel delicately blew away. Images like these probably lined the walls of his home, yet he treated this one as though it were unique.

"I ought to apologise for pinching his liqueur." He spoke with a happy tone in his voice yet Edward was quiet. His mouth fell slack. 

"That... It wasn't George that night," he corrected gently, afraid of the lump in his throat. He gestured to Andrew in his army uniformam and Samuel's eyes followed. "Andrew, he was the one asleep."

"Ah... I see."

A silence fell between them. Edward stood still, watching Samuel rock on his feet with his hands fidgeting at his sides. It frustrated Edward — such a nervous act was out of character for a confident lad. Clearly, Samuel had come with a purpose. Words were heavy on his tongue, yet he was hesitant to speak.

"Why are you here, Samuel?" Edward asked. The words felt harsh and abrupt but the silence was becoming unbearably uncomfortable.

Samuel ran a hand through his hair, the other over his mouth. "Why..." His mutters were so quiet, it was impossible to tell if he was speaking to himself or Edward. "Lord, I... I don't know why. I just—" He exhaled sharply and dropped his hands, his eyes also falling to the floor. 

There was a long pause. "I simply feel so... blasted lonely... without you."

Edward felt his chest tighten as the words forcing their way inside. The kitchen clock matched his heart rate. A shy smile crept its way onto his face.

"I thought you and I were close. Harold, he's a great lad, but..." Samuel sounded distressed, moving around. He hadn't spared Edward another glance, yet. "You caught my eye first. I wanted to become your friend."

Edward scoffed. "Then why didn't you write to me?"

The flustered blonde paused his steps with his shoulders slumped when he looked over at Edward. Sad eyes and red cheeks, he was gaping like a fish. It took a moment of thinking before he spoke. "I did... so many times. But nothing felt enough. Every draft felt wrong, foolish... daft!" Samuel waved his hands around exasperated before covering his face.

Without thinking, Edward bellowed out a laugh — and it felt so good. The sound bounced around the walls, a noise the kitchen hadn't held in a while. He tried covering his mouth to muffle his laughter aware of Samuel's intense gaze. Until he flinched; throbbing pains from his eye returned. He winced as a cold hand reached out carefully stroking his swollen bruise. It calmed his pain. He wished it would stay there forever.

"Can you tell me how this happened?" Samuel was careful with his tone, whispering gently, afraid one wrong word would make Edward reluctant to share. He moved so close that his breath tickled the redhead's cheek. "Please."

The low pleas from his friend broke him. What he'd intended to remain a secret escaped him, beginning from the moment he and Andrew walked into the pub. The slurred words about George's heroics, Andrew's twitching eye when he was called a coward. Glasses around them clinking and their uncle berating Andrew for not fighting alongside his brother — protecting his brother. 

Each detail was recollected hazily: Andrew grabbing his uncle's collar, yelling from other pub-goers and the smell of cigarettes. Edward had tried to stop them by reaching for his older brother but he was too slow. An elbow collided with him before he could think, a shock surging through his body.

"It was an accident. Andy would never — he was very apologetic." He couldn't look up from the floor. The cold hand cupping his face was all he could feel.

"Oh, Ed. I'm so sorry." Samuel's voice was low and comforting. "George, did he—"

Edward hummed in response. "It still... doesn't feel real." 

Before he could acknowledge what was happening Samuel wrapped his arms around him. Edward froze in place as a hand played with his hair and another rubbing his back. "I don't know what to say," Samuel whispered into his ear.

The faint smell of cigarettes mixed with something citrus. It was calming. A combination of smells that would find the way into Edward's head late at night. A thought that caused his heart to race ever so slightly. He relaxed, burying his face into his friend's shoulder. This comfort — he wanted it. He shouldn't but he did. 

The hands in his hair loosened, his curls were now free from slender fingers. As Samuel pulled away Edward ached for more. Their eyes met: blue eyes soft and teary paired with the purest smile. He reciprocated, grateful for the comfort. They stood in silence before Samuel spoke. "Will you spare me some time tomorrow?"

Edward tilted his head in confusion.

"Let's meet by the pond. We can talk, shout, Lord... even have a good cry if we must!"

Edward let out a soft laugh and nodded. His own eyes had watered; he wiped away a stray tear.

"I'd like that."

...

When Edward waved Samuel off, he lingered by the door feeling the cold breeze as he leaned against the frame. The sky had now sunk into darkness, shifting from a dusky blue into emptiness. He watched as Samuel's figure drifted further away, with only a handful of streetlamps lighting his path. Edward's chest ached, and he wrapped his arms around himself, remembering the warm embrace.

"Late visitor, was it?"

The voice came with heavy footsteps. It shook him; he backed into the house. Coming down the path was his mother, a pile of towels in her hands, and her heels clinking against the stone path. His uncle was not far behind, with narrow eyes and a smirk across his mouth.

"Don't tease him, James." His mother pushed away his curls, looking at his bruised eye and sparing him a smile.

As usual his Uncle James quietened himself. Instead he glanced back at Samuel's fading figure... then fixed his eyes on his nephew.

Edward swallowed hard.