the sixties weren’t good to you, were they? ☮︎

He sat up onto his elbows, studying him. Fillmore’s hair was cast out on the ground underneath him, one arm behind his head. His lips were slightly parted, and there was a dewy sheen across his cheeks where the sun was hitting him. It felt as though he would not be real, not completely, if Sarge were to reach out and touch him.

“Do it,” Fillmore’s voice echoed in the back of his mind, coaxing, “Live a little.”

Suddenly, Fillmore’s lips curled into a slight smile. He sat up slightly, elbows digging into the sand. He murmured, “You’re confusing, soldier.”

Their noses were inches apart. Sarge’s heart pounded from his chest, and he felt himself beginning to unravel beneath his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean,” he managed.

“Really?” Fillmore spoke, barely above a whisper. He leant forward slightly, fingers brushing against Sarge’s jaw. “I think you do.”

His fingers moved downward, agonizingly cupping Sarge’s chin and pulling him closer still. One thumb swept across his lower lip, sending a bolt of electricity down his spine.

It was terrifying when Sarge kissed him. Fillmore—beautiful, untouchable, unshakeable—was reciprocating. Their noses bumped together awkwardly as they broke, but Sarge pulled him back in: his need for nationality was overpowered by his desire for more.

Fillmore turned his head, and it was over. Sarge let out a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding; he looked down and away, feeling as though the world was spinning.

“Sorry,” he heaved. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Fillmore did not respond. He sort of half-laughed, leaning back on his elbows.

Sarge focused entirely too hard on the dull brown of the sand on the beach. The world around him was vibrating: no longer peaceful, it had become a whirlwind of sounds and smells and bright sunlight. Blood pounded through his brain, and he somewhat felt as though he might pass out. Why did he do that? What made him think that was a good idea?

“I think we should start hiking back,” Fillmore said, infuriatingly easy. “The sun will set, soon.”