Kensington (Toby)

[Stephen Colly]

Date: 20th January 1945
Place: Kensington, London
Time: 19:30 hrs

The wireless crackled and then sprung into life. The Home Service was being broadcast, telling how the Allies were making their way through France after the successful invasion a few months previous. The whole country was celebrating. It was fantastic for the Allies finally being able to really send the German’s on the run. What most of the civilian population did not know was that at such a cost the invasion had been. Thousands killed on the beaches of Western France. Thousands more injured. Stephen was one of them. He had been shot, wounded at the shoulder and had been re-cooperating in London ever since. But now, months on, he was ready to return to the fighting in France.

It was his second-to-last night in London and he had thought he might as well take a stroll in Kensington Gardens and wander up towards the bars and music-halls which were open at this hour. The gardens were now nothing of their former glory. Most of the space had been taken up by rows upon rows of food produce for the war effort. There were still a few places where one could walk however. It was now dusk. The birds sung their goodnights in the trees above his head as he walked along, looking out over the park and spotting people doing exactly what he was doing. Just walking, enjoying the peace. Well, one says peace, but it really wasn’t as the constant drone of London traffic and aircraft overhead was to be heard.

He, by now, had made his way out of the park and back on to the street, just by the tube station. There was a pub nearby, laughter and light coming from it. He decided to take a look. He pushed open the door, seeing the faces of both soldiers and civilians turn to look at him as he entered. He was wearing his army uniform, the Private rank on his chest and arm. No one took much interest in him as he made his way towards the bar, finding a gap and ordering a drink. A beer.

He then went over to a quiet corner and sat down; a few people stared at him, a few girls even smiled. But he did not smile back. He was not their sort, though they did not know it. A scuffle was going on by one of the tables by the bar. Two men arguing. Stephen watched with slight interest. It was going to be a long night. However, his beer would get him through it.

[Tobias Elva Styles]

The gritty taste of ale reached Tobias's lips as he sat alone, entertained by the boisterous laughter and communication by half-drunken soldiers and civilians alike. The pub reeked of contraband and alcohol- it was a slightly nostalgic smell, but it reminded Toby too much of home.

Home.

The word the rehearsed in his brain since his arrival in England. As a young bait, he never thought that he would survive through the war- especially in one-piece. A sense of gratefulness buzzed along with the alcohol, but it was short-lived. He could not erase the tragedy and stigma that leeched on him, all coming from home. The death of his twin and the passing of the man who he called father. Too much pain and ache leached onto him- like demons. Of course, the interaction of fellow air mates and others helped subdue those nasty thoughts, but that what they did subdue, not removed.

Tobias swallowed another taste of ale as he sat in his thoughts. Toby felt a strange itch on his arms, like something was gnawing at them. With haste, he sat his drink down on the table before him and rolled up his uniform sleeves. Nothing. Just permanent deep bruises of service and stitches. The restless man sat back in his seat, the mind terrors have been his Achilles heel since losing one of his men in a air fight- resulting in Tobias's plane to nose dive. That was a rough day, but not one to simply brush off. Because of the injuries Toby received and his illness, he was placed on temporary leave from active duty. It was disappointing, but it was what needed to be done.

As Tobias calmed his mind, he noticed a argument brew not too far from his table. It appeared to be between two soldiers, couldn't tell their ranking but he could tell that they were drunk out of their minds. Toby sat back and watch for a few minutes before fists began flying. At that moment, Toby searched around for a more tolerable place to sit. He found a table with a lone man, but he thought that it would be intrusive. Well it was either that or sitting near a drunken boxing match. With that note, he gathered his jacket and half-finished ale and made his way to the table.

"Is it okay if I sit here? Can't think with a sloppy fight going on in front of me."

Tobias asked with slight humor, wanting some sort of acceptance before plopping himself at a stranger's table.

[Stephen Colly]

He was staring into space, not listening to anything around him when someone sat down next to him. He started and turned to face the person who had entered his space. He focused in on who it was. Another soldier. An American.

”Yes, of course I guess.” Stephen nodded and moved up so the man had room to sit down. Crickey, rather handsome, kind eyes. Stephen stared for a few more seconds at the man’s face before turning away and looking over at the fight. Stupid idiots. What was the point in fighting? Like that? Over something so stupid – a girl? Yes, yes it sounded like that. ”Don’t understand why people fight like that.” Stephen said, nodding at the two in front of them and glancing back at the American.

He wondered why he suddenly wanted to make conversation with this man. Was it because he thought he was handsome? Probably yes, after all, that was why he had started to be friends properly with McMillan, why he had gone out of his way to get himself killed potentially to see him in France. Yes, odd how feelings work.

He sighed and shifted a little, his eyes drawn again to the American’s face. Yes, handsome. Nice hair as well. Older than himself however.

[Tobias Elva Styles]

With a nod of acceptance, Tobias shifted more comfortably in his seat. By his accent, the man was an Englishman. Tobias glanced over at the man, before downing his ale. Private I see. And in the army. The uniform and insignia on his arm gave it away. He made a mental note as he signaled for another round. The American heard the Englishman speak once more, addressing the fight that was occurring. The lad was right, it was a mystery why someone would stoop so low to fight over an attractive stranger. In most cases, the girl would end up ditching the man.

"Eh, I don't understand either. Quite a shame to be honest."

Tobias glanced behind him to watch the fight die down. The bartender and a few soldiers tried to break up the altercation. Occasionally someone had a fist to the face, but the men were escorted out of the bar and onto the street. A sense of calm settled over the bar, maybe it was because of the absence of the circus acts- probably so. A sense of pity for the men pricked him as he shifted back in his seat. The tender returned with a new glass of ale, before taking his leave. For sometime, Toby stared at the drink, moving the glass in circular motions. He never thought he would converse with someone, he wasn't planning on to. Since his leave, he have gotten into the lonely cycle of heading into town, drowning his sorrows in alcohol, and feeling the effects in the morning. It was not recommended for his health, but he did not care- it was like he had nothing to lose anyways.

"I see you are a private- I guess I remember my time in that rank."

The American attempted to keep the conversation going, to prevent him from regressing into sullen thoughts. It was a slightly obvious attempt, but it was worth a shot. By the look and sound of it, he seems to be a kind young man. Visibly younger than the American, slightly reminding him of Martin.

"Oh by the way, the name is Tobias Styles- ah, Flight Officer Tobias Styles."

For a moment, he forgot to address himself properly. Maybe a common mistake because of the buzz of ale, or the relaxed atmosphere. He did not see why he should add the title, he was not in active duty- but it was protocol, Toby has no room to argue. He gave eye contact with the man beside him, was it too close for comfort- he could not tell, but he occasionally caught the long glances made by the boy, but he did not pay them any mind, maybe just trying to remember a face.

[Stephen Colly]

"Eh, I don't understand either. Quite a shame to be honest."

The boy nodded, saying nothing. He didn’t know quite what to say. Was slightly awkward to be honest. Strangers, he was never good with.

A few minutes past and the two sat, watching the fight and then the aftermath. All the while, Stephen had been struggling as to what to say to the stranger. He had practised a few sentences in his head, thinking them good starting points, turned to speak… but the man had spoken for him.

"I see you are a private- I guess I remember my time in that rank.”

Oh. He had not greeted the man with the respect he deserved because of his rank, which he then said was Flight Officer. The name was Tobias Styles. ”Sir.” Stephen quickly saluted but then rested his hand back on his knee. ”I apologise, I did not realise you were a Flight Officer.” he looked away, biting his lip.

”Private Colly.” he looked back at the man, ”Stephen Colly.” he awkwardly held out a hand, a smile now playing on his lips as he met the man’s gaze. ”First time in England, is it sir?” he wanted to know more about this American.

[Tobias Elva Styles]

Tobias could help but let out a small laugh at the boy. He found no need to be formal, it always vexed him how lower ranking men always have to bend over backwards for higher ranking men. Tobias found no difference in the rank- thy still both at to fight against the enemy, expect more responsibility is on Tobias's shoulders than the privates. When Stephen introduced himself and saluted, the American sent a nod. He wished he could ease the boy's nerves- to make him more comfortable, but he did not want to start something.

"It is okay, I don't have my jacket on. No need to be so formal, we are not active."

Well that was the first reassuring words that formed in Toby's brain. He unknowingly picked at his arms, it was not a nervous habit- the stiches were uncomfortable and itchy. Quickly Toby adjusted his rolled-up sleeves to hid as much stiches and scars that he can. He did not mind anyone noticing his battle scars, but it gets distracting after awhile.

"Pleasure to meet you Stephen, you are very brave for your efforts in the war."

Toby spoke with a reassuring smile as he saw an extended hand of the boy. The American took his hand and shook it a bit. It was a simple, lackluster gesture. He later heard the question about his visit to England. Toby enjoyed the place, very different than the country of New York. He has never been to a city a day in his life.

"Eh, you can say it is my first time. I have been here for awhile, but the city still amazes me. Never been to a city, just saw rolling grass and horses. I know you're native, how do you like it?"

Tobias responded with a hearthy laugh. He felt a sense of warmness, maybe from the ale. He is glad that he did not have to suffer through another lonely night, trapped in his depressing maze.

[Stephen Colly]

Stephen was always wary of the higher ranks. He had had very bad experiences with them in the past – mainly Liam Brentwood. The oddball. He had heard many terror stories – mainly from his pals – that men had been killed for answering back to officers. Well, perhaps not killed just told off severely. Killed was a bit of an over-exaggeration. None the less, Stephen did not want to get on the wrong side. Especially with a foreigner as well.


Perhaps the man did not like to be of his class? Stephen had noticed him picking at the strands of stripes on his jacket. If this war was not on, Stephen would be the furthest away from London and the army and France as he could get. He hated it. However, he had made very good friends. So far at least.


"Eh, you can say it is my first time. I have been here for awhile, but the city still amazes me. Never been to a city, just saw rolling grass and horses. I know you're native, how do you like it?"


His attention picked up as he heard horses. The man was a country boy? Like himself. ”You say horses, sir?” he smiled now, ”I have a horse, well, I come from a farming background – in Devon which is a long way from here in South West England. I only came to London because of the war. The countryside is where I belong truly I believe. Where-abouts in America are you from, sir?” all of a sudden the questions started pouring out. He was fascinated as he had not met a man from America with similar interests as his own before.

[Tobias Elva Styles]

Tobias sat back in his seat, letting himself actually relax more. The conversation was beginning to run more smoothly. It seems like the mentioning of Tobias's livelihood back home struck common ground. He couldn't help but to smile a bit at the memories of life before the war formed warm colors.

He could vividly remember the rustic, abandoned farm near the farmhouse. He remembered how his father, Edwin Styles, would keep his Great War fighter plane in there, using it to train the him and his brother- he had to stop there and go no further. The memory was still fresh, the accident that cost a precious life. It was his fault, no he can not think this way right now. Toby swallowed the bitter thought, suppressing it for Stephen. It would not be fair to destroy a nice conversation with personal accounts.

"Ah yeah, I did. I remember my father keeping a few. He eventually gave them away during the Depression- miss them so much."

Tobias scratched his head at the talk. It was a disappointing time to give up Sally and Denny, but he and his father had to survive somehow. He can remember seeing them in the open meadows, galloping and minding their business. Tobias used to be a bit mischievous and try to chase them down to ride, much to the shock of his twin. It was a fun, easy-going time. The American heard the Englishman talk about his home and his horse. He had to agree with him on the drastic movement from country to city. Even though it was dazzling and entertaining, it was not home and never would be. The war did disrupt lives, ripping family apart- taking hearts from homelands. It was a disgusting thought, but it will be over soon.

"Where-abouts in America are you from, sir?"[/b]

It was a simple question, but it held some sentiment to Toby. No one as of yet has asked where he was from, nor even cared to listen if they did ask.

"I am from Andover, New York. Not originally, but I lived there for half of my life. It is a very small town, you can say village. My pops farm was a few miles out from the town. Do you have an family or siblings back home?"

Tobias nearly cursed himself for asking such a touchy question, not for Stephen's sake, but for his own sake. He knows the the boy will return the question, he does not want to lie, but he does not want to tell the truth. Toby knew that keeping his back story would only haunt him, maybe releasing it to someone who is willing to listen and understand would be the best thing.

[Stephen Colly]

"Ah yeah, I did. I remember my father keeping a few. He eventually gave them away during the Depression- miss them so much."

”Ah. My family managed – because we lived in Devon, we were sort of cut off from the rest of the world’s problems. It is a very rural place and news does not travel fast there. Well, not when I was there. I have not been back from a good year.” Stephen responded to Tobias’ musings about his farm. Yes, global news was rarely the talk of the little village of Islington. Now however, the war probably had touched that rural corner of England. The war seemed to touch every single corner, every piece of the unspoilt land. Sad. Very sad.

"I am from Andover, New York. Not originally, but I lived there for half of my life. It is a very small town, you can say village. My pops farm was a few miles out from the town. Do you have an family or siblings back home?"


”I am only child. Got a few cousins on my father’s side. Mother and father are still alive. Working on the farm. Father has an awful temper. Let’s just say, we do not see eye-to-eye most of the time.”

Infact, most of the time was all of the time. Stephen hated his father and his father hated him. They had never got on. The daily beatings had been regular occurrences during Stephen’s childhood. Now, having grown up – at 20 - Stephen realised that perhaps it was because of ”what he was” that his father had wanted to beat out of him. Though, having said all of that, how could at age 4, would his father have known…?! Would Stephen have even known then? It was all very confusing and it troubled the poor boy.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, tapping his fingers on the table. It was a habit he had gotten into recently. ”Ah, sorry.” he muttered, realising that he was doing it and stopped. ”So, you like England?”

[Tobias Elva Styles]

He must be very fortunate to not be affected by an outside news.

Tobias couldn't help but to think that as he heard Stephen. He wished that Andover and beyond was like that with the Great Depression. It was upsetting how it seemed like everyone had to suffer because of the immature spending habits of the wealthy and urban citizens. But apparently when a good chunk of the population dines at the table of gluttony and greed, everyone has to suffer. It was a bias consequence. Tobias felt slightly jealous on how the private was able to visit home so recently. It has nearly been four years since Toby has visit home.

Well not that anyone would be there when his feet returns to American soil. Maybe a few family friends, but that is if they were not killed in this war- or have moved away.

Tobias continued listening to the younger man talk about his family. A loving mother and a stern father- sounds very familiar to the American.

"I can relate to that- eh, I had a twin, an older brother and parents. It's a long story on how the father I was talking about was not my real father, and how I am now considered an only child- but just be glad that you have someone to call family. Someone who still loves you and cares for your well-being."

Tobias looked down at his slightly drunken ale. The memories of receiving that letter. The death of the only man who cared for him- running away from home because of an abusive father, leaving his mother behind. But it was bound to happen, his older brother fled home when Tobias and his brother were twelve. The officer just held terrible memories and secrets, and he was silently drowning in them. He hated feeling sorry or helpless for himself, it was not who he was. The officer refocused his attention to the lad when he asked about his satisfaction being in England.

"It is a nice place, I wish I could enjoy more of it- without being tied to the war. I would remain here if I could, just have some loose ends to tie up back home. I really enjoy it. What about you? I know you live in this country, but do you enjoy it? Is traveling an option for you?"

Toby never expected himself to be so inquisitive tonight, but the man before him was interesting and appeared to be a thoughtful and nice person. He settled his attention back to the private, nearly gazing at him.

[Stephen Colly]

"I can relate to that- eh, I had a twin, an older brother and parents. It's a long story on how the father I was talking about was not my real father, and how I am now considered an only child- but just be glad that you have someone to call family. Someone who still loves you and cares for your well-being."

”My mother cares. I know that. I guess I am lucky. Considering other people in the world who are not as fortunate.” he nodded, smiling at the American. He was starting to open up a bit more. Both he and the American. This man seemed a trouble one however, the way he paused; the way he looked away after every time he spoke. He seemed slightly lost. Far from home both mentally and geographically.

On England, the man said: "It is a nice place, I wish I could enjoy more of it- without being tied to the war. I would remain here if I could, just have some loose ends to tie up back home. I really enjoy it. What about you? I know you live in this country, but do you enjoy it? Is traveling an option for you?"

Did he catch the man’s eye again? Not the first time. Was there something? No… No he must have thought it and made it up.

”It is a nice place yes.” he smiled again, downing the rest of his pint. He did it this time quickly. ”I enjoy the countryside, yes. City is a bit too big for me, personally.” he shrugged, setting his glass on the table. ”Travel? Well, I’ve been to France but I guess it isn’t a holiday destination at the moment.” he chuckled, laughing at his own joke. ”Do you want another?” he motioned to the glass. Without another word, he rose from his feet and made for the bar; ordering two drinks – he would drink the other if the American did not want to –and came back setting them both on the table. ”Are you about to head off to France?” he said, sitting down and looking intently at the man.

[Tobias Elva Styles]

A mother's care. Something many take for granted, while others wish that they still had her embrace. Tobias was the longing one. His mind attempted to remember he face, her soothing words when the boys father had his violent streaks. It pained him to follow the footsteps of his older brother, but he had to- for his and Martin's sake.

"I am glad you appreciate her, now you have someone to look forward to when all of this mess is over."

Toby released a genuine smile this go-round. He was beginning to feel more... comfortable, like he is talking to a younger version of himself. And it lit up a part of him that remained dark for years, something many stressed that a partner could remedy. Who knows. The American wanted to see the world, to escape the stigma and exceptions of his country- to slow down and start over. He watched as Stephen answered his question and downed his pint. It slightly amazed Toby how a man his size and age could take in so much.

"Ah yeah, I wouldn't recommend France at this time."

Tobias laughed along with the private. He wondered why he never met this man before, of course the separation of ranks and the lack of personal relationships with officers to enlisted men. If he could, he would break the barrier, to meet more amazing privates like this one, but it was frowned upon. Right after this fanfare would be bullets and crimson, Tobias would have to step out of this role and into a more stern one. It was not something to look forward to, but it had to be done.

"Do you want another?"

Tobias was about to answer his question, but was cut-off as the boy hopped up to order more. The American had not even completed his second round of ale, he clearly did not want a third one to go to waste. Ah well, as the boy came back, Tobias finished off his second glass, pulling the other closer to him.

"Are you about to head off to France?"[/i]

Ah world's end. The dreaded question. The officer sipped some of the beverage before give eye contact back to Stephen. He released a sigh, recalling his ultimatum before soaring over the French landscape.

"Yes I am. Pretty soon actually. Our wing will be giving air support. I do not want to take part of it, but I have a duty y'know. Is your band returning to the battlefield? I heard a few divisions making their way through Normandy, marching to Germany. It's pretty rough."

[Stephen Colly]

"I am glad you appreciate her, now you have someone to look forward to when all of this mess is over."

Stephen nodded. Yes, yes he did appreciate his mother. He did not appreciate his father that was for certain. But nor did his father appreciate him so one could say that is understandable given the circumstances. It was odd, Stephen much preferred the company of people older than himself. Take McMillian. Yes, take dear, sweet and kind Edward McMillian. He was much older than Stephen. Much. And Stephen had… had preferred his company much more than people his age. McMillian had been a father to him, and…well, let us just say mixed emotions for him really. He missed him terribly.

The drink was starting to affect him. Just a little. Before the war, Stephen was gone on one pint, but now it was a bit more before it really started to affect. Thus meaning he spent a lot more money on drink than he had done in previous years. A bad habit. However, this bad habit could – you could say – be genetic. If alcohol drinking could be. His father was a drunk, and sometimes Stephen felt like he was turning into one.

He took another swig of his drink, sitting back, feeling more relaxed. He turned his head to the American again.

”Oh yes, I forgot you said you were in the airforce.” he muttered, sighing and closing his eyes for a few seconds. ”I was wounded last June. Was flown back here very soon after. Been recovering from a wound.” he nodded at his leg.

[Tobias Elva Styles]

Tobias continued to drink his third round- it never occurred to him that his body had taken in three pints of alcohol. Despite his health concerns and fair warnings against obsessive consumption, the American kept returning every night a some bar or dive, taking it all in. It became a habit after a few swigs of beer. It is not an uncontrollable urge to drown his pain away, but it was something to help him cope.

He had people to talk to, but he never felt comfortable releasing information about himself or his past. They just seemed rather mechanic to him, there do do their job- not to play consultant of psychiatrist. So here he was, risking his health just to fill a desire and a void. As Toby was finishing off the pint, he began thinking about the young man next to him. How he was stolen from home by the selfish war. Yes, war is selfish- very selfish indeed. He seems so young, so full of promise and opportunity. Toby sees a lot in him, but he could never know what he is capable of. Not in this lifetime.

"I was wounded last June-"[/i]

Just that part of the sentence alone perked Tobias up. Strange how his injuries occurred a month before. Well from obtaining burns, gashes, and infections he would probably be sent back with the rest of his crew. Tobias noticed that Stephen glanced at his leg, Maybe that was the injured area. Toby thought to himself. The American pondered where on the front the lad was when he was injured- but then again, it should not matter.

"Sorry to hear that, I am glad that you are re-cooperating. Are you looking forward to be sent back?"

Toby decided to hold of on his story, he just wanted to know more about this man. Something about him seems to connect with Tobias, it is a strange feeling- but he is confused about it being attraction or companionship.

[Stephen Colly]

"Sorry to hear that, I am glad that you are re-cooperating. Are you looking forward to be sent back?"

Stephen shrugged. Deep down no. But in front of an officer, he should say yes. ”Kind of.” he said, that was half way between the two. ”Yeah, kind of I guess.” no no no. But he had to. He was a soldier and many of his friends did not want to go back either but they had to face the music and get on with it.

He took another swig from his beer, the glass now suddenly half empty. After all the alcohol, he realised he now needed to use the bathroom. He stood up, swaying a bit. ”I’ve just gotta use the lavatory. Excuse me.” he headed towards the door of the bathrooms. After he had done his business, he was stepping out of the bathroom when a woman approached him. Oh shit.

She was pretty, her brown hair flowing over her shoulders. Her hand resting on his chest, pushing him against the wall. A whore? No, she looked too well-dressed for that. ”I’ve been watching you, sir.”[/b] she smiled, trailing her fingers up and down his chest. ”A pretty boy like you, all in this mess of a war. You look lonely and sad.”[/i] she started to kiss his neck. Stephen did not know quite what to do. He wanted to push her away, to tell her he didn’t fancy her, her “kind”, but in a bar full of people that would not do. He scanned the scene to try and find the American. Yes he was still there.

”I am sorry. But no, I am with a friend tonight.” he muttered, going red slightly as he started to grab her hands and push her gently away. ”Please. Just stop.” he whispered this, taking her face in his hands and staring at her. She stared back. ”Suit yourself, pretty boy.”[/i] she went in and kissed him on the lips, lingering the kiss for as long as she could before he moved away. Shuffling over, he took a seat back with the American, glancing at him. ”Women, eh?” he almost chuckled, rolling his eyes and finishing his glass once more.