• { ♟ } • – @cheualier ( cont’d from x )
[ Strangely enough, his question had been posed from a place of
admiration. Jean’s been his superior for some time, now, and whether he
knows it or not, demonstrates such a fact every single day. He’s good at
his job, his words are picked carefully, he’s thoughtful and introspective,
smart and compassionate-- there isn’t a doubt in the master sergeant’s
mind that Jean Havoc is a near-perfect soldier, and a good guy, to boot.
Any man should ever DREAM to be like Jean Havoc.
The past few months of transferring to Central have been sort of
rough for the quickly-acquainting team. Grabbing a drink after work, or
to christen the upcoming weekend isn’t uncommon, and this isn’t the
first time Havoc’s extended an invite to the group’s youngest. What IS
rather odd, though, is the lack of life behind those bright blue eyes.
Even when he’s drank himself under the table, Havoc always manages
to pull a smile from who-knows-where. Something was wrong, tonight,
and Fuery just couldn’t manage to drop it.
His instincts prove correct, as Jean takes Kain by the shoulder
and exhales his troubles. And it comes as a shock: scared of oneself?
Havoc? A clap at his shoulder has those glasses slipping down Kain’s
nose, and before he can push them up, himself, Jean’s giving their
bridge a light tap. But there’s no time to ponder before the man throws
his drink back under his own, drunken confession:
Oh.
And as the last of the light drains from the lieutenant’s face,
resigning himself to rest forward against the counter, Fuery’s chest
gives a painful squeeze. Too many times, he’s heard the stories from
fellow soldiers, the locker room gossip about so-and-so’s strange sense
of attraction, the rhetoric and taboo of it all. Men and women, dodging
their own friends and family, forced to keep a part of themselves hidden
for their own career, their own safety... Kain counts himself lucky. His
own experience hadn’t been one wrought with fear, but with quiet
tolerance. The men in his academy class, as well, had posed a much
different take on sexuality.
Turning back down to stare into his bourbon, Kain isn’t sure how to
proceed. He wants to comfort. He wants to ease his companion’s pain.
He wants to burst at the seams and declare solidarity, as well- but none
of these desires appear so easy. Havoc doesn’t deserve this level of hurt,
not for simply daring to feel love. Hesitantly, Kain turns to glance down
at Jean once more, and reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder,
giving it a squeeze. ]
❝ Admitting to yourself that there’s something you can’t control is always
hard. It’s... even harder to do when you feel like you’re alone. But,
Havoc: there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way.
And even if you are scared... what you just told me, that took courage.
Being as true to yourself as you could, trusting someone else, me,
with a secret- you’re already one of the bravest men I know. This
only proves that. ❞
[ Wetting his lips anxiously, Fuery gives Jean’s shoulder another
light pat, before retracting his hand to cradle his glass again. Kain isn’t
very good with words, but he has to try to let Havoc know that there’s
nothing about himself to fear. ]
