When I was 17, I dropped out of high school as soon as I got my draft to the military because anything would be better than sitting in some boring classroom for hours on end right? Well I certainly got the excitement I had asked for. I had known you since bootcamp, always talking shit to each other, although I was the one who did most of the shit talking. It’s been four years since we were in boot camp and were thrown into the jungle of Vietnam. I considered myself your older brother, always teasing you about how I always have to keep your ass in check to keep you from fucking up. Although it was mostly a thing I did more for myself, but I wouldn’t admit that.

While patrolling the camp with you, I couldn’t help but feel more drawn to you, it’s been a gradual progression but at this point I can’t even look at you without my mind instantly turning straight to the gutter. Wondering what you would do if I caught you off guard and kissed your soft looking lips, how I would slide my hand under your uniform to feel your pulse under your palm, feeling the way you might squirm or writhe under my teasing touch. Maybe even so much as wondering what you might taste like, how you would react if I suddenly pushed you against a tree, pulled out your cock, shoving it into my salivating mouth-

I caught myself mid thought to berate myself ‘I’m no goddamn fag,’ I would say over and over and over in my head, until I would believe the lie once again. It was getting to be the end of their shift so we should probably be heading back by now so we wouldn’t get a search party sent out for us.

“Hey, fuckface, we should probably head back,” I said to you, using one of the affectionate nicknames I gave you a while ago.