part 8

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mal·ad·just·ed
ˌmaləˈjəstəd/
adjective

failing or unable to cope with the demands of a normal social environment.

•••

thursday.

harry was losing sleep. he wanted more than just niall and albert, the horse boy, to talk to, but he didn't want to see anyone he knew coming off the train.

he was all nerves and scared, and the bombs were landing closer now, and the nights went from rowdy to quiet, as being loud would give away location, same as too many lanterns, so hours were spent in the dark, not allowed to sleep until the hours permitted.

they had only had to move camp once, and that was all he wanted to do, except move everything onto the train and return home as soon as possible.

screw the french, harry thought, they could fight their part of the war.

niall was getting nervous as well. he played it off, never taking a step out of place when he was pulling rank, though harry saw at night where niall would stare at a picture of his mother on her wedding day, and he would see the tear tracks down the pale boy's cheeks.

and harry could empathize. he too missed his mother too, along with the rest of his loved ones. he had no photos of them, and it was only around proud and weak men that he couldn't remember every detail of their faces.

he missed his home, and the people he grew up with everyday, and the fact he didn't have a choice anymore.

harry had gone to war, and he wouldn't return the same man.

if at all.

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