Human

ten

"So what is it?" Jake says as soon as the door to Tommy's basement suite slams shut.

Tommy takes a step toward him, narrowing his eyes. He's not terribly short, but Jake's got a good four or five inches on him, and he has to look up a little to glare at Jake. "You think you're less of a person because you lost your leg?" Tommy says bluntly.

Jake rolls his eyes, anger turning his face to stone. He tries to move away, but Tommy grabs Jake's wrist, holding him still. "Why not? Everyone else does. You know how people treat me once they find out? I'm just the poor little amputee. I'm not even a person anymore, just some fucking invalid who can't even take care of himself."

"Okay, first off: you're the size of a goddamn tractor, how the hell can you be the 'little amputee'?" Jake doesn't even smile. Tommy just sighs and continues, gentler this time. "And second, what the fuck? Who cares what they think about you? They're idiots."

"I care," Jake mutters, taking a couple steps back to sink down onto that godforsaken couch. "I care, all right? I was going to enlist after college. Do something important. Be someone important. And then I lose my leg in a fucking motorcycle accident a mile from home and now I can barely walk up the stairs by myself. How the hell am I supposed to do anything important now? I can't-I can't be-"

Tommy sits down beside him carefully, so close their bodies touch from shoulder to hip. The look in Jake's eyes is too personal, too crazed, for it to be just that. "This isn't about the military," he says quietly.

Jake's hand twitches beside him. He's right, he knows he is. "Shut up," Jake snaps, jerking away from him.

"It's about proving someone wrong," Tommy says.

"Shut up, Tommy," Jake growls, pushing himself to his feet.

Tommy stands up too and walks over Jake, not touching him, but close enough that he could be. "Someone close," he says softly.

Jake looks like he wants to punch something for few second seconds. Tommy counts to ten, hoping it's not him, but then the look melts away to defeat and Jake slumps back onto the couch. "General Miller," he says roughly. "Army. Silver Star, among other things." He smiles bitterly. "I came out to him when I was sixteen and suddenly I wasn't the army draft he was so proud of anymore." He smiles bitterly. "You know, I was fine with who I was. But that didn't matter. He wasn't. And now I can't even prove him wrong because I lost my fucking leg. I can't be a hero anymore. I'm just the gay amputee who can barely shower by himself."

Tommy lets out a breath, listens to it echo around the room. "You can still do that, you know," he says. "I've heard of recruiters taking amputees for special cases. My friend's cousin got into the Navy, and he was born without his right leg."

He hears Jake's breath catch as he turns toward Tommy. "Really?" Jake whispers, like he can't even let himself believe it. This close, his eyes look like water. Glassy, webbed with red. Still beautiful.

"Really," Tommy says gently. "Also, don't worry about the shower thing. I'm more than willing to help with that."

Jake laughs, one step away from hysterical, and fits his mouth against Tommy's almost hard enough to hurt. "Fucking perv."