I wanna know about the first time mason kissed you. Cause I know it wasn’t you that kissed him!
Not exactly the most glorified first kiss, but buckle in, because you’re in for a long ride.
It was the night of when Mason’s pops, real shitty guy, not fun to be around, told him in a letter that he should’ve died in Vorkuta. Not fun. Wish I could’ve knocked some sense into the bastard, but that’s besides the point.
You know how us military men and our relationship with alcohol is, always leaning on it like a crutch when shit hits rock bottom. Well, Mason was piss drunk, I’m talking he couldn’t have walked a straight line or recited his ABC’s if he’d have tried. Bastard had some pills in sight, and I walked into his poor excuse for a tent right as he reached for him.
Knocked ‘em out of his hand, asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing. Ironic, now, given my own…situation. He was all sorts of fucked up, mumbling and wobbling, practically collapsed into my arms.
I let him cry for a while, shit, I get it. My pops wasn’t the best either. Family struggles are shit. Wiped his tears, and he kept apologizing and thanking me for being with him, then he just leaned forward, and kissed me right on the lips.
Never really forgot that.
He passed out on me about a minute later. Didn’t remember a goddamn thing when he woke up, the bastard. I was just hoping he didn’t notice how fucking red my face felt.
But yeah, that’s the story of our first kiss.
