“Nothing is okay right now.” He drags a shaky hand over his face. “Christ. I’ve fucked this.”
“You haven’t,” I say. “It’s fine; there’s only me out here.” That makes him look at me properly. He opens his mouth, closes it again, glances towards the door, then back at me.
“You’re not going to tell anyone?” he asks.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“You swear?” he asks, studying my face, searching for a catch.
“I swear. I’m not interested in ruining your life.”
Some of the tension drains out of his shoulders then. He exhales through his nose, leaning back against the wall, head tipped back resting against the brick. “Shit, I didn’t plan it,” he says. “I’m not that stupid. It’s just that we were in Russia for so long... I wasn’t thinking,” he pauses. “You’re not angry?”
“Why would I be angry?”
“Because I'm —” he pauses again. “Shit, shit.”
“I didn’t know,” I say, trying to sound reassuring.
“Didn’t know what?”
“That you were... you know...”
“Gay?” he finishes, studying my face, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “That’s something, I suppose,” he mumbles, pushing off the wall and bracing himself again. “I’m so careful. I don’t do this, ever,” he adds, gesturing vaguely back toward the bins. “That was a mistake.”
“Did anyone else see?”
His head snaps up fast, scanning the alley again, mirroring my earlier movements without realising it. “I don’t think so; I didn’t notice anyone.”
“Alright.”
“That’s it? You’re just... alright?” he asks, swallowing hard. “You’re really not going to tell?”
“I’m not a grass.”
“I—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I can’t think like this.”
“Then don’t,” I say. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Easy for you to say,” he mutters. I leave that alone. “I just wanted one night where I didn’t have to think.”
“I get it.”
“Do you?” he asks, giving me a sharp look. He looks like he wants to ask something else, then decides against it. “I owe you. You could literally ruin my life with this.”
“I don’t make a habit of outing my mates,” I say. “You don’t owe me a thing.” He lets out a quiet, shaky laugh.“Go back inside, act normal and don’t drink anymore.”
“Yes, sir,” he replies, then winces. “Sorry.” He straightens his jacket, rolls his shoulders, puts the mask of calm back on, then heads for the door.
He hesitates with his hand on the handle, turning back to face me again. “Caiden. Thank you.”
When the door closes behind him, the quiet settles around me properly. I need to get out of here.
I don’t go back inside. Instead, I turn, and I walk.
Back on base, I let myself into the comms room and close the door without turning on the main light. I sit at the desk, power up the terminal, rest my forearms on the surface, staring at the blank screen until my thoughts organise themselves into something usable.
I think hard about Mason, the look on his face when he realised I’d seen him, and how fast the panic hit. I alsothink about how little it took — one lapse. No planning. Only the assumption that, for once, he might be allowed to exist without hiding.
