There wasn't much else that could come from a place like this. He could keep running, but where would that get him—higher up the ranks? That would just take him farther from who he was, who his heart desperately wanted to be. But what could that do for him? Lock that shit up. That's all he heard around base. He was good at that, it was familiar.

He stared at that red folder, the one that taunted him every day, like the rest of his life was set if he just put down his damn signature and reenlisted; if he went on to live a life he went through with only because its all he knew, not the one he truly wanted to live.

Liam thought back on that. The life he wanted to live. When he thought of 'want', the first thing that came back to his mind was his hometown, the one he grew up in. But it wasn't the town itself, it was something else—someone. So, as the weeks turned to days, then to hours, then to minutes, and all he could do was think about the kid that got him through his childhood and loved on him no matter what all the way up until he left that shit behind and enlisted, he had made a choice.

He sat at the bar back at home, the one he never got the chance of being able to sit in before he joined the Marines. A rough hand held onto the thick handle of a beer mug, like it was keeping him stationed. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should have gone back to Parris Island, but it was too late now. In the midst of his thoughts, a figure slid into the seat next to him, but he paid no mind. That was until he heard a familiar voice come from it. It was yours.