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Oficially Screwed and Not In a Good Way
Buster woke up feeling sore all over. He wondered briefly if he’d gotten beat up again at a dodgy job. But then it all came crashing back – the movie, the drive, him triggering Gideon into a full-moon state, getting home, that strange need that took over everything else, the kiss...and then nothing. He groaned and opened his eyes, feeling the covers of Gideon’s bed slide all over his naked body. Gideon himself was sitting up, the covers pooling around his knees and waist. He was chewing his thumb, his green eyes nervous and worried. He didn’t even glance down at Buster when he stirred and Buster had the sinking, cold feeling that there was a lot of regret going through Gideon.
They’d screwed up, again.
Buster rolled onto his side, his back to Gideon. He was doing what he best did with all his problems: running away from them.
‘’It’s fifty.’’
‘’What?’’ Gideon glanced down at Buster, curling in the covers, wanting to disappear.
‘’Fifty quid. For
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My sweetest Gus,I miss you. I miss you so freaking much. I can’t even tell you just how much. I don’t think that big of a number has been invented yet. I hope you miss me that much, too. I mean, I don’t! I hope you miss me, but I also hope that you’re happy. I got your letter this morning and could barely get through the day without thinking of what to write to you. I got shouted at by my commander during drills, and I spaced out so much during cooking duty that I got smacked upside the head. Now I’m sitting in my bunk, at the desk, and writing this by candlelight. It’s late. This base is so huge, but it gets so quiet at night. Discipline, I suppose. I’m going out into town to drink with the boys tomorrow; we have leave for a couple hours, so I’ll mail this letter then. I’ll probably get drunk and whine about how much I love you again. They’re sta
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