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Tim had been best friends with Bertie since they were both lads running about, being problems for their parents and other so-called authority figures. Tim had also been in love with Bertie since he first found the meaning of the word. Tim needn’t dare tell him, too plagued with the fear of losing him.
The moon war broke out when they were around 19, and being able boys, they were quickly conscripted, taught the basics, and shipped off to the front lines. Now, I think it’s very important to mention: Bertie isn’t in love with Tim, but trapped in a war zone, isolated from home, it’s only natural to cling to the one familiar. It didn’t take long for their innocent comfort to turn into something more physical, and Tim reveled in it, allowing his brain to twist the acts into Bertie reciprocating his feelings, despite the feeling deep down reminding him that that was not the case.
Three or four years into the fighting, they were ordered to prepare a push on a dangerous front. The night before the assault, huddled against each other, they exchanged dog tags, a silent promise that they would both still be fine once they had succeeded. Bertie died that day, his body torn into by laser rifles, barely staying together other than bloody tendrils of gristle and sinew. What happened next was a choppy blur for Tim; he remembers abandoning his position and running to Bertie’s side, falling to his knees, miraculously avoiding the fire he was under. He remembers watching blood pool from Bertie’s mouth as he muttered gargled words Tim can’t begin to recall. He remembers dragging Bertie’s lifeless form to a foxhole, tucking his broken and gore-ridden body away from any more harm. He remembers pressing a soft kiss to cold lips before leaving him there. He remembers returning to the battlefield, killing any Lenny he came across in a sanguinary rage. He remembers ending up knelt before the Kaiser’s throne. He remembers setting the moon to explode and stumbling into the life pod, fumbling with the visor unable to shut it before everything went black, first with pain, then the bliss of unconsciousness.
Tim wakes up, his eyes a contradictory pain of both burning and freezing.