September 7th, 2030, 12:51 am

I pull the front door to the frame and swivel to capture the silhouette fumbling behind me. The structure I find in the dark skips a step as I proceed toward the beckoning light ahead. My hand collects his far shoulder, leading him down the path as it closes in around our heads.

His breath chases. "No, I don't want to go in there. It's too bright." A quivering arm raises to shield his face.

"It's okay, Craig. Just keep walking toward the light." I pat his shoulder and continue to guide him into the kitchen. "You're going to sleep on the couch through here. Try closing your eyes."

Our trembling, weakened bodies enter the kitchen under the shining overhead lamp. CJ drove the Sergeant and I back to the Manchester household after our experience at the Ambiance nightclub. He was the only Imperial Guard who abstained from the alcohol tonight, and he was rewarded with the duty to transport our corpses to our homes. He dumped Craig off with me and zipped away with a snarl.

Though my brain is riddled with hallucinations and a horrid aching, I have the mind to seize Craig and keep him in my possession for the night. He left his car keys on our dinner table and I intend for them to remain until morning. The couch, for him, is the safest place in his state.

Craig traversed through the rough terrain of the nightclub all evening, never being in one place for more than ten minutes. He would sit with Mai, CJ, and I before searching for Sergeant Brayden Lee with the rolled joint. He must have taken a hit at least five times, followed by stealing a random clubber's drink every couple passes. How Craig isn't dead or at least unconscious at this moment is beyond me. His tolerance must be incredible.

"Slater, you're home late. Who's your friend?" The voice of a man, unmatched to the Captain, calls out from the living room. I peer over the divider to inspect the source of speech. Through a haze, my vision depicts a figure of average proportions seated on the couch against the long wall.

I twist to my Sergeant and squeeze his arm. His eyelids perk up in a split. "Oh, this is Craig."

My gaze sharpens the focus on the face of the man intruding our house. Whatever hair that resides on his head blends into the murky background of the room. My deranged mind won't allow me to assess the detail of his weathered skin, though it shouldn't be a difficult task considering I recognize it from a few days ago. It would be wise to acclimate to seeing him out of the Imperial Guard uniform.

Craig shrugs off my touch and shoots a wave at the man. "Hello! It's nice to meet you!"

I curl him toward me and lean into his ear with a gentle tug of the shirt. "Shush! That's the Colonel. Play it cool, okay?" I release the Sergeant and return to the living room. "Sir, is Brian around?"

Colonel MacTavish huffs and jabs a finger through the air. "Yeah, he's here on the couch. He'll be waking up ugly tomorrow morning. Uglier, I should say." He slumps into the cushions of the sofa, forming a pillow with his hands. "Time to get my beauty sleep. Good night, kiddos."

I scoop Craig by the elbow and drag him into the dim hallway. "Come on, let's go upstairs. You can sleep in my room."

My steps mirror him on the staircase, trailing his every movement. His feet never find a steady plant but he maneuvers toward the bedrooms nonetheless. Halfway up the hike, Craig dives for the next step, yet his composure remains and he starts forward once again. My strength is unneeded, it seems, as he collapses onto the second floor.

He crawls into my room with my vocal guidance. I let my voice carry through the hallway and reverberate on the walls for him to find me. My calm assurance is a misstep away from crumbling over the Sergeant's inebriated frame. My fingers stroke the wall of the room before discovering the light switch. The lamp on the timbered bureau shoots to life and brightens the path to my bed.

I shut the door behind us as he lumbers to his feet. "Here, you can sleep on my bed. I'll take the floor."

"What? Slater, this is your room. I'll sleep on the floor, I'll be okay." Craig blinks at me. "I'm about to pass out anyway."

"No, stay up there," I insist. I haul my shirt over my head and toss it onto the rug beside the bed. The cool summer air drifting in through the cracked window swarms to my chest. My jeans stay snug around my waist as I tumble to the floor. "I don't care. I just want you to be comfortable."

Craig removes his shirt in accordance with me and sits on the bed. He swings his legs onto the mattress. After several moments of a faded silence, he twists his head to me. "Slater?"

I bend my legs and draw my feet closer to myself. My hands grip the opposite arm over my torso. I stare at the ceiling fan as it takes a gentle, circular cruise over my head. "Yeah?"

"I don't understand why you're so nice to me. A week ago, we wanted to rip each other throats out, but now, I," he mumbles to a halt. A sigh slips through him. "I'm sleeping in your room, high off my fucking ass."

The fan bores me, so I concentrate on the boy overlooking me. "There's no point in being mean to anyone."

"Yeah, but you kissed me. I'm pretty sure that's more than just being nice."

The encounter with Rodney Roarke and Grayson Irons overcasts the minute I spent associating my lips with the Sergeant of Class 30. The cloud of alcoholic stupor that clusters the inside of my skull restricts such a minimal memory from recounting. The moment we shared back at Ambiance is lost to me, and how he remembers any part of it makes me consider how significant it really was.

I slither my socks off my bony feet. "I mean, yeah, I guess I did." The wind sweeps in a draft and it swaddles my bare toes.

Craig widens his mouth for a yawn. "And I hope this isn't the weed or alcohol talking, but I really like you, Slater. We were up in the club together, I looked at you, and for the first time, I didn't see you as who you were a month ago. I thought you looked really good under the lights."

"I didn't know you felt this way about me, Craig," I claim, propping my body up by my elbow. "Really, this whole time?"

He breathes out through his nose. It is his opportunity to stare at the ceiling fan. "I don't know if something snapped inside me that made me think like this. I'm sorry I've been so confusing lately." Craig lays his hands over his forehead. "It's hard liking guys because you don't know if they like you back. Most don't."

"Craig," I mutter, "are you saying that you like me?"

His hands exhaust over his eyelids. "Yeah."

This is the same kid who called me a coward and a low-life just last week. He tried to kill me in the combat tournament during the ranking. He admitted that he once hated me, and for a legitimate reason at that. Sergeant Craig Larsson has no business associating with someone with my criminal caliber, or so he thought. We thought.

It has been only two days since we first made true acquaintance. We were never supposed to be friends because of my unconscious mistakes over the summer. It was destiny that he would be my archenemy, according to the man I made a widower and the Sergeant's adviser. Our relationship was not expected to surpass that of any other fellow Imperial Guard, but yet, here we are, sitting together in my room.

Does he actually like me? Like, actually. Just because I'm the first person who ever showed him respect doesn't mean I'm the love of his life, does it? I must be the first guy who presented any kind of relative interest in him, and he clobbered the bait as soon as it dangled in his face. But why the switch? He's supposed to hate me.

There is something about Craig that spells out his level of attraction. His lips are rosy and full, something I can say that I had the privilege of meeting with my own. When I delve into his eyes, there is a newfound brightness to them, like an emerald Meadowlands plain. Aside from his image, I can discern a tenderness that resides deep within himself. It's something that he only discloses with a select few people, and I am one of them.

I suppress a complete smile. "I like you, too, Craig."

His head churns in my direction as he frees his field of view. "What? You do?"

"Yeah," I reply, pulling my weight to sit with a hunched back. "Since yesterday, you and I have gotten to know each other pretty well. I learned things about you that I would have never known otherwise. I found out that you're really not as shitty as I once thought, and you've become a close friend to me."

An involuntary laugh seeps through him. "Thanks, I guess." He lays on his hip and ear to look onto me. Whatever phantom happiness cloaked him vanishes into the night wind. "I just want people to like me. Not like how you like me, but I just want them to respect me. If they see I'm friends with you, they would have to think something of it, right? Because, you know, they like you. Everyone in 30 likes you." His hand swims through the flow of his hair. "I know it sounds like I'm using you. But trust me, Slater; I really do like you."

"I know, Craig, I see what you're trying to do. It's a good idea."

There is a minute shift in the orientation of the Sergeant's irises. I study their every motion before a grin slithers under his nose. "Come up here."

I can sense my eyebrows ducking for their company. "What?"

"Come up here," he repeats. A breath tugs him onto his back with his wheat-gold hair unfurling over my pillow. "Lay next to me. It's your bed, after all."

I thrust my palms into the carnation-red rug and rise to my tottering feet. My hands find both sides of Craig's body as I careen over him. I wish that the moment I spent supervising his subdued face lasted longer than it did. He watches my every maneuver as I lay flat on my back beside him.

He groans, stroking his pointed cheeks. "You know, Slater, I'm glad you and I are friends now." He collapses onto his opposite hip to face me again. "But I feel like I know nothing about you."

"I usually try to keep to myself about most things; especially lately. I don't want other people to be involved in my problems."

Craig hides his hands between his head and the pillow. "Well, I'm not saying that you have to tell me everything. Just about you; Slater Tross. Not a criminal, Imperial Guard, Medo spy, anything like that. Just you."

My gaze finds the window. The glinting pins of stars scatter across the black backdrop. "There's not a lot that I know about myself. Things I thought I knew turned out to not be true."

"How about I tell you something first?" His left hand escapes the crush of his head and burrows into my hair. His thumb creeps onto my temple, under my eyebrow. "Ask me anything; I will answer it."

I rest my head on my pillow, contorting to Craig. A shadow falls over his eyes, fading the moss green hills into night. His hand finds its home amongst the strands of my ruffled hair, while my right hand caresses his brisk shoulder. "If I'm the only person that you've come out to, who are you going to tell next? If anybody."

A smile flashes across his face before hiding again. "I don't know yet. I'm not sure how the class will take it; I don't know what they would think." He looks past me with the reflections of the sparkling stars in his eyes. "Once they find out that I'm gay, they'll think that we're together. Then, that falls onto you, too. I don't want you to be dragged into this."

"What about outside of the class? Like your parents or someone else?" I squeeze his tricep, returning him to me. "You're close with Major Talbot, right? Why not tell him?"

"I trust him." The breath escaping his nose pats the hairs on my arm. "I trust him more than my parents. But I'm not going to lay that on him right now. He's going through some shit."

"I didn't know you were close to him."

"Well, I'll have to be from now on. I'm terrified of what my parents will do to me if they find out that I'm gay. Levi is a cool guy, he would still fucking accept me if I came out. He cares about all people, no matter who you are."

I scoff. "Uh, not everyone."

"Ha, right." He retracts his hand back and digs it into the cushion of the pillow. "Okay, your turn, but I'll give you a choice." His voice sinks to a soft mutter. "You can answer my question, but if you don't, you have to kiss me."

My hand collects his between us. I comb over the soft veins on the underside of his palm with my thumb. "I don't see the downside to that, but go ahead."

Our tender stares fasten as one. With a capacity weaker than a whisper, he begins to inquire. "This doesn't make you feel uncomfortable, does it?"

My sweep of his hand eases with the final ring of his question. I know what my response will be as it dances on the brink of my tongue. The hairs along my jaw tingle against my skin as I sense his face inching near. The midnight hills latch onto my lips when I can feel the heat of his in the vicinity. The room darkens on my own regard with our meeting. My hand travels back up to his shoulder.

Craig smiles upon the release. "I can't tell if that's a yes or no." He lays his hand around the outer curve of my neck. "I don't know what it is, but I really love kissing you. Every time we kiss I just want to do it more and more. It's almost addicting."

I pull him in my direction, pressing our foreheads together. The bulbs of our noses tickle on the contact. I open my mouth, accessible enough that our lips scrape each other for my words. "Fine by me."