"I'm joining the army."

The cold, stony words stabbed Rob's chest with the intensity of a million bullets, leaving small yet painful wounds in the process. No words dared escape his mouth. Yet his horrid expression of pure melancholy instigated all the words that were needed: why?

And, as if the two men shared a telepathic bond, the other man--the determined one, the one wanting to join the fight for hellfire--said with complete defiance, "Because I want to save others."

"Brad," Rob said gravely, sharply. "I don't want you to give your life up for anyone else. I want you here, safe and sound with me. Not on some... hell on earth, where death is inevitable."

Brad waved a hand offhandedly. "You're being too selfish."

"Well, excuse me for caring!" Rob screamed angrily, stomping a foot down like a child during his infamous temper tantrum. He looked very much affronted that his boyfriend and soon-to-be husband would rather be fighting it out on the battlefield than be safe and sound at home, with him. Wasn't that so much better than blood and bombs and explosions? Wasn't a cup of green tea and cuddle time on the couch while watching new episodes of Glee so, so much better than the army any day?

Then why, oh why on earth, would Brad want to be out on the battlefield? To "save people"? And at what cost? His own life, that's what! Brad would be risking his own life to save the lives of others, and though that sounded heroic and kindly and oh-so amazing of him, the only life that mattered to Rob was Brad's. Without Brad... if anything were to happen to him... Rob would rather just suffocate, or plunge himself into the jaggedy crevices of a canyon, or just plain shoot himself than face the fact that Brad is... de... a...

No, no! Rob gritted his teeth. He couldn't even bring himself to say that dreaded four-letter word. Not anywhere near Brad, anyway. Never near Brad.

After his little petulant reverie, Rob harshly clamped his hands on his boyfriend and soon-to-be husband's shoulders fiercely, looking him straight in the eye. Uncomfortable of the penetrating gaze, Brad stared off to the side. "If anyone's selfish, it's you, Brad," accused Rob indignantly.

Ludicrous, Brad gaped and asked in a similar heated fashion, "What do you mean I'm selfish? I'm wanting to help people! If anything, that's generosity times a million, and then some!"

"What about me?" Rob slowly released his hold on his boyfriend's shoulders and stared tentatively down on the floor, despondent. "What about us? What about our Friday movie nights, or our fancy-attire-at-McDonalds days, or our little matches on those cool Pokemon games, or..." and continue Rob did, spilling out every single good memory he took for granted with Brad. Meanwhile, Brad listened attentively and nodded his head, giving a small smile through shaking scowls every once in a while.

Eventually, after the bottomless abyss of Rob's prate was complete (more or less, anyway), Brad hugged his shorter boyfriend and placed a short peck on his cheek. Then, Brad placed another one--a sweeter one--on Rob's petite nose, trailing a plehora of mini kisses downwards until Brad reached Rob's quivering pink lips.

Rob melted at the tingly feeling of Brad's soft lips against his skin, like a jolt of electricity with each touch. Even after ten years of being together and having to endure Brad's horrible snoring habits and how he never seemed to flush the toilet and how he always forgot his lunch and so Rob had to go deliver Brad his lunch during work and how they would always get stares from being a normal couple and kissing in public... Rob still felt the same kind of adrenaline and feelings and ecstasy the first moment they caught sight of each other. It's moments like these that make Rob want to cling onto his boyfriend and never let go.

At that moment, that's exactly what he did: cling cling cling, never letting go.

Brad chuckled softly and wiped Rob's forming tears away from his eyes. Amusedly, Brad said, "Geez, you have the girliest skin ever." Brad gave a goofy grin, roaring in laughter upon seeing Rob's face light up with embarrassment.

"Whatever..."

For ages, the two cuddled and snuggled and whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears. Rob was so absorbed in the moment that he forgot why he was so mad jus a few minutes ago. They were in a middle of an Eskimo kiss when Brad brought it up again, though, and Rob felt the wounds resurfacing.

"I'll be leaving in a week for boot camp," Brad said. Reluctantly, Rob retracted from the amazing Eskimo kiss and pursed his lips. Brad continued, "We can spend the next week doing anything you want before I leave. I promise I'll visit as much as possible, and we can chat on webcam every single night."

Rob closed his eyes in pain. "I hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Brad."

"Rob..." Sighing, Brad gave Rob a quick peck on the forehead before going off into the solitude of their room, feeling a little hopeless. "I love you too, and that's why I'm doing this."

"I hate you," Rob reiterated. "I hate you."

. . . . .

A fuzzy mass of pixels buzzed on the television annoyingly. Irritated, Rob tried to move the cables around until he could see the pixels foming into a distinguishable figure. "Technology hates me," he said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

Brad let out a hearty laugh. "Hey, hey, don't be too hard on yourself. I had the guys help me set this thing up. It took four of us. Sad, huh?"

Rob nodded. It's been roughly two months since he had physically touched his boyfriend, and it's been driving him insane. He yearned for a kiss, for a cuddle, or even just to see Brad smile. Not on the television, either. It just didn't feel the same.

"So, I'm guessing you've made a lot of friends already, huh, Mr. Charismatic?"

Brad grinned. "Yeah. Wanna meet my roomate?" Without waiting for an answer, Brad started calling for his roomate's name (which is apparently Ian). Another distinguishable mass of fuzzy pixels appeared right beside Brad. He looked pretty young, around early twenties. He reminded Rob of Brad when they were jus ten years younger.

"Ian, I'd like you to meet my lovely fiancee." Brad had a sparkle in his eyes that shone with arrogant delight. He loved showing off his prized Rob to other people.

Ian smiled and waved to Rob, whom of which waved back shyly. "You like, lucky you have 'im. My fiancee left me just because of the army."

Brad smiled. "I can't really call it luck. I've never been a serendipitous guy. I'd like to call it, well, love. Ours is strong, even at this distance."

Rob's heart ached at that. He wanted so much as to kiss his boyfriend again. He deserved it.

. . . . .

"He's been in the bathroom for ten minutes already."

"Knowing him, he fell in. He never flushes, after all. Oops, did I say that aloud?"

The two men chuckled at each other. Rob grew a closer attachment to Ian over the few weeks of talking to him. He was a nice lad and kept Brad in check, a job that orderly belonged to Rob. Being close to Ian also meant being just a little bit closer to Brad. Maybe not distance-wise, but emotionally. Brad seemed to drone on and on about Rob this and Rob that to Ian, and Ian was the type who willingly listened without any questions asked. It was comforting to hear from Ian that Brad missed Rob as much as he missed Brad.

However, Rob sometimes hated what came out of Ian's mouth. Rob wished that Brad would say that to his face personally. That would mean the world--no, no, more than the world--to him.

. . . . .

Every night, whenever one of them had to go and sleep, Brad would always walk up to the webcam and blow a bunch of air kisses to Rob, who would in turn catch them and place then on his cheeks or his forehead or his nose or his ears, or sometimes when he's feeling a little bit sassy, his posterior. Rob loved moments like these, where they would be silly together and don't care what outsiders think.

However, it was never the other way around. Rob never blew kisses to Brad. Rob was too scared to see if Brad couldn't catch them.

. . . . .

It's been six months already and Brad was due to come back today. A week from now would also be known famously around the entirety of their little community as "Rob and Brad's Awesome and So-Manly Wedding".

And so Rob waited impatiently at the kitchen table with an embarrassing pink apron on and burnt cookies in his hand. (Hey, he tried, and they were made out of love, which should count as something!)

He watched the clock tentatively. One o'clock... two o'clock... three o'clock... Suddenly, it was midnight, and no knock on the door. Instead, he heard a small beep on the webcam and came in the image of Ian.

"Did something happen to him?" Rob asked hastily, worriedly. Even though he asked, he didn't want to know the answer.

"The group he was in... they haven't gone back from their mission yet. It's been four days."

Rob didn't say anything else. Instead, he turned the webcam off and stared at the ceiling, feeling tears sting his eyes.

. . . . .

"He's back!"

When Rob heard those words, he felt so happy yet so angry at the same exact time. Brad came onto the screen with a small scratch on his left cheek and both his arms completely bandaged up and ugly and scary. Even then, even with all his visible pain, Brad smiled cheekily and greeted his boyfriend with unbelievable mirth. "Yo, how's it hanging, Rob-meister?"

"Your arms." Rob growled. "Where the fuck have you been?! Do you know how worried I was?! I couldn't sleep at all, and I waited for so long, and--and... you missed our wedding.

Our wedding."

"I'm sorry. Hey, at least I'm alive?" Brad laughed, and Rob just wanted to die there and then. He hated how Brad always made light of any situation no matter how grave.

All of a sudden, out of the blue, Brad put on his serious face and asked in a deep voice, "If I were dying and only had three seconds to live, what would you so?"

"Three seconds? That's so idio--"

"What would you do?"

The corners of Rob's lips tugged downwards. "For the first second I would say 'I'. Next second, 'hate'. Third second, 'you'."

Brad looked taken aback at that. "Why?"

"Because you're there and I'm here, and you look like that."

"At least I'm alive..." Brad mumbled softly. Ron didn't hear.

. . . . .

Six more months. Rob turned his webcam on and saw Ian sitting around, staring at the ceiling. They exchanged greetings for a short moment, and after a while of topicless jumble, Rob asked Ian if he could call him when Brad returns from his mission. Ian agreed. So, Rob was left to do anything and everything. That time he spent mostly doing crossword puzzles, a hobby he's taken a liking to over the year of lack of Brad.

When he was about to solve the puzzle, Ian called for him. Giddy, Rob ran up to the webcam and expected an air kiss or an air kiss or a stupid pick-up line. What he heard instead were grunts and crying.

Rob looked at the screen and gasped. Brad lay there, all beat up and bloodied, heaving out buckets of dreaded red. Rob panicked.

"I'm so sorry Brad!" He yelled out in a fit of desperation, clawing at the television screen like a madman. "I'm so sorry for being a jerk and for telling you I hate you! Because I don't! I'm a fucking liar, I really am!" He blew kisses into the webcam but they all landed on the ground, pathetically flopping around with lifelessness. Rob begged and pleaded that Brad be saved and was screaming his heart out.

But Brad didn't do anything but keep choking up blood. Ian was trying his hardest to stop the overflow of blood but with no luck. And then everything just suddenly stopped, and Brad just laid there, unmoving and crimson.

Feeling his heart deflate, Rob bawled. He kept crying and crying until he emptied his tear sacs, and even then he kept screaming and flailing and crying, the trauma of physically witnessing his worst nightmare come true.

In those three seconds of panic, Rob wasted it by apologizing. Rob didn't need to apologize because Brad loved him, and that always meant apology accepted, whether declared or not. Rob didn't need to make it all better because there was nothing to make better. Rob didn't need to cry because tears never solved anything.

All he needed to do was say "I love you". All he needed to do was say "I love you" in those three seconds. Then maybe, just maybe, Rob could've heard that back.

All he needed to do was say "I love you".

But did he?

No.

And he payed for that.

Maybe Brad was right: Rob is selfish. Selfish for wasting those three... little... seconds...

One...

Two...

Three...

In loving memory of my dear C.C. I'm so sorry for telling you I hate you, because I'm the biggest liar ever. Please rest in peace.

. . . Ignis fatuus.