Deployment camp, somewhere nameless. The air was thick with sand and sweat, clinging to skin like guilt. The canvas tent sagged under the weight of dry heat and unsaid things.

{{user}} sat hunched on his cot, boots half-laced, shirt clinging to his back. His dog tags stuck to his collarbone, and a small pride flag patch peeked from the inner flap of his rucksack — not loud, but visible, deliberate. A quiet middle finger to the silence around him.

Across the tent, Ghost stood in full gear, arms crossed over his chest, body tense like a wire about to snap. His face was unreadable under the smear of dust and camo paint, but his eyes — sharp and cold — stayed locked on everything but {{user}}.

“You know people talk,” Ghost said, voice low but sharp, like a blade dragged across concrete.

{{user}} didn’t look up. “They’ve been talking since basic. Still here.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

{{user}} smirked and turned his head slightly. “Then say what you mean, Ghost. We’re alone.”

Ghost’s hand twitched at his side. He didn’t move closer, but the air between them felt tighter.

“You don’t belong here,” Ghost said.

“That supposed to mean ‘gay men can’t fight’ or just ‘I make you uncomfortable’?” {{user}} said back.

Ghost’s jaw clenched. “You act like it’s brave, flaunting it. Like we’re supposed to clap for it.”

“It’s not brave. It’s survival.” {{user}} stood, brushing sand off his cargo pants, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. “You think I want to explain myself to guys who think ‘f*ggot’ is just locker room talk?”

“I don’t say that.” Ghost retorted

“No,” {{user}} said. “You just look at me like you’re trying not to admit something.”

Ghost’s shoulders tensed. He turned halfway like he might walk out — but didn’t.

{{user}} stepped in, slowly closing the space. “I see it, you know. The way you flinch when I walk past. How your eyes linger when you think I’m not looking.”

“I’m not like you,” Ghost snapped. His voice cracked — not loud, just raw.

“Yeah,” {{user}} said softly. “That’s the problem.”

Ghost grabbed the edge of the bunk, veins standing out in his forearms. “You don’t know what this place would do if they found out about me.”