The sun hung lazily mid sky, warming the drafty seaside outlook. Seagulls cried and pecked at the dried grass; it was mid summer and despite the usual mugginess of the air the drought took a toll on the quiet town. Classes had begun at the regions most prestigious military schools, and the common rabble of uniformed soldiers bustled forlornly to and fro class. PV2 Op trudged out of his school house, dawning his cover, and slowly making his was to the chow hall. His Arabic teachers had been harsh with him, which, generally speaking, was no different than any other aspect of his life. His mind kept churning over yesterdays vocab homework, why did he find it so difficult? Just the other day he felt he grasped the concept so well and yet he now had to stay after class for additional tutoring, on a Friday no less. He knew his friends were eager to shed their uniforms and their stress in exchange for a night on the town. Surely they wouldnt wait up, he would just have to skip pre-gaming and catch up with them later on. His thoughts clouded his vision and soon he found himself running directly into another soldier, a Sergeant for that matter. The Sergeant hadn't seen the lower ranking soldier, his thoughts grasped an identical struggle, however his stocky tall build easily knocked the younger soldier over. Both broke from their trances, their minds temporarily stunned at the situation at hand. PV2 Op stumbled back to his feet, "I-I'm sorry Sir," he stuttered out. Sergeant Blue Socks looked the young soldier up and down, smiling at sudden awkwardness of the situation.
"As am I," he uttered suavely before going about his way.
For several seconds, Op had forgotten everything about Arabic and suddenly could think of nothing but Blue Socks alluring blue eyes. The way he had looked at him, it was powerful and intimidating...but gentle? Op shook the idea from his head and hoped he could continue his lunch break without further drama and made sure to be aware of where he was walking.
Tutoring drew to a close and soldiers began to file out of the school house and back to their barracks with a renewed sense of vitality. The weekend had begun and they could finally temporarily be human again. PV2 Op, freshly showered, pulled his grey v-neck over his head and slipped on a clean pair of jeans and was out the door. The franklin turnstile called to him, a gleaming gate to freedom, even if just for the night. God, the first step out off post felt like heaven and he quickly descended the steep hill to the bar he had hoped he'd find his friends
Their usual spot, a dark dank english pub, was packed. Music was bumping as gaggles of college girls danced with guys they just met under the entrancing flashing lights, sloshing their fruity drinks on the floor. Op, overwhelmed by the crowed, began to search for his friends. A seemingly perilous endeavor considering how packed it was. Slowly he made he nudged past people to get to the bar, a drink was much needed. It could take hours to find his friends at this rate and he would have to catch up to their level of inebriation. Just as Op got his drink someone bumped against him, spilling his beer.
"Hey!" He shouts over the music. A solid dollar worth of his 3 dollar beer was now all over the floor and that did more than peeve Op.
"Sorry man," The perpetrator, a tall handsome gentleman sporting a burgundy shirt, shouted back. Op assumed he had seen how much beer was spilled as the perp offered to buy him another one nearly immediately.
"It's fine," Op growled as he turned away from him. Under the bright glare of the flashing lights he managed to get a glimpse of his face. It was the Sergeant he ran into earlier that day. His face flushed as he headed away from the bar and back into the safe anonymity of the crowd. Ten long minutes of shoving through the crowd and he was starting to feel as though all hope were lost. His drink was finished and he contemplated leaving, but he had a feeling he should stay. A second drink down, no sight of the Sergeant, and not so much as a text from his friends.
"They must be really drunk," he thought to himself as he picked up his third 803. It was light and crisp but carbonated and flavorful enough to merit purchasing another. He scanned the crowd and still couldnt find red acorn or purple boat, why did he feel like he needed to stay in this one bar? This was incredibly unlike him, though he felt safer without the Sergeant in sight. His third beer went down quickly and he began to feel the smooth slowing effects on his conscious. Generally he was against dancing, but he felt compelled to get out there. Why not? There was no one there to judge him, civilian judgement mattered little to him. The music volume decreased slightly and a faint rhythm queued. Suddenly the music faded out and suddenly the rapper started spitting, "Panda...panda...panda, panda, panda, panda, panda," then the beat dropped and Op couldn't help but leave his standing spot near the bar and weave his way through the crowd to the dance floor. It was blissful, the beat carried him and he felt his body moving with it. There were so many people on the floor but he didn't care. The lights flashed a dim blue and purple, illuminating very little around him. Behind him, he felt a hand lightly grasp his shoulder, someone wanted to dance with him? Sober him would have found it hard to believe, but tipsy him was more than okay with it. Being so close to another man, it was electric. Their bodies pressed against each other and the music slowly shifted into something slower, something darker. Happening to overhear the girls dancing next to him, it was The Weeknds "The Zone," and something about it captured him. This moment, feeling someones body heat through his shirt, the dim lights, he was at peace. The guy he was dancing with suddenly grabs his arm and pulls him closer, gently cupping Op's face, his lips pressed against Op's; Short and slow. Every thought, every feeling, in that instant evacuated Op's mind. What was this feeling? It balled up in his chest like a warm sleeping kitten. He opened his eyes and reached up to touch the guy's cheek. Smooth and radiating heat, Op couldnt pull his hand away. Several seconds passed, but to him it had felt like a year. Had anyone ever captivated him like this? Surely not his last boyfriend, a lackluster civilian with a nasty lying habit. "This could never be a thing, me and some random guy I just met?" He thought. Sense came back to him and he retracted his hand and blushed, shyly retreating back to midst of the loitering bar crowd. A safe place to renew anonymity as a new song and new brighter sequence of lights began to flash. What even happened out there? Had he lost it? He just kissed a random stranger, no, a random stranger had kissed him. He was losing it. You cant feel this way about someone who was essentially an animated silhouette. An arm wrapped around Op's waist, quickly turning him around and a second arm snaked around his back gently pulling him into another kiss. He resisted out of shock but quickly recognized the lips, the smell, the feeling. It was passionate and slow, lasting twice as long as the first. Reality and sobriety began to set in and Op opened his eyes and recognized the face that was ever so gently seducing him. It was Sergeant Blue Socks. Op struggled out of his grasp and stepped backwards. The bright flashing lights illuminated both of their faces. Shaking his head he backed farther away from Blue Socks then turned and hastily shoved through the crowd towards the entrance. Over the bustle of the crowd he couldnt hear Blue Socks telling him to wait.
Finally out on the sidewalk, Op looked left and right, he wasnt sure how close the bus stop was. He could head back up the hill, but it was a clear view and he would have to hope to God that the sergeant didnt see him. But he would rather take that chance then be a sitting duck at a bus stop. With haste, he made it to the end of the street and turned the corner. The Franklin gate rested so far up on the hill, Op would have to trek through several layers of hell before he reached the top; and even then, he would have to hope the turnstile was working correctly or else he would have to humiliatingly wander to Bolio. Fuck, why did it seem so hot? He felt nauseated and dizzy but he pressed on for several blocks before leaning against a tree to recover. Black dots began to freckle his vision and the lightheadedness grew increasingly more alarming. He stumbled forward a few paces, briefly leaning against a street lamp, before his shoe caught on the uneven sidewalk and he fell. Slowly he dipped in and out of consciousness like a bobber. A warm trickle of blood dripped from his nose as he lay there. In the brief moments of consciousness, he tried to get up but his body felt so heavy. Thirty minutes passed, not a single car drove past, no usual gaggle of drunk Airmen hiked past him, he was alone and dazed. The scuff of a shoe broke the silence, and rapid footfalls followed.
"Hey! Hey, it's alright, are you okay?" The persons voice sifted through the void of white noise and the ringing in his ears. Slowly he was turned over, the street light seemed obscenely bright compared to the lack of light while his eyes were rolled back in his head in unconsciousness. The figures face was indistinguishable as it propped his body against the light pole and pulled out its phone illuminating it's face. It was the Sergeant. Again. Op couldnt get away, his entire military career was about to be flushed down the shitter because of this. No one could know.
"...don't..." Op weakly managed to utter, his head wavering as he struggled to hold it up. He began to fall over and Blue Socks quickly caught him before he could hit the ground.
"Listen, you're going to be fine," Blue Socks wipes the blood off of Op's lip and nose.
"I'm not telling anyone," he reassures, rather convincingly for an nco.
"We can't...this isn't...i didn't know," Op stutters weakly. Blue Socks looks at Op's emerald green eyes and whispers, "This never happened," but then looks away.
"From the moment I bumped into you this morning, there was something about you, I can't pinpoint what it was," he softly speaks.
"As to what happened in the bar, I didn't know you would be there, I didn't know you were the one I was dancing with, and when I kissed you..." His voice trails off and he looks back at Op with and innocence to his face, "I felt something...something warm,". His eyebrows knit and his face grew worried, "but then after the second kiss, and I saw your face..." He let his feelings digress and his voice ebb with sadness.
"We can't..." Op whispers.
"...I know," Blue Socks sadly muttered.