After Effects

“We’re always the soldiers, the ground men, fighting that good fight,” Gabe brought the whiskey bottle to his lips and took a long swig. The burning liquid felt good in his chest. He turned to face Liam. “Don’t you get really fucking tired of it?”
His voice might have cracked. His eyes might have been filling with tiny, pricking specs of water.
Liam stood stoic in the filtered streetlight from the window, his shoulders rolled back and his hands in his pockets. His face was tilted forward and the same intense expression never left his features. It was the one where his lips pulled gently down in a frown and his eyes were open enough to take in all of his surroundings at all times, just in case.
He turned away from him. “Sometimes I don’t even know how you can bear to look at me.”
He lifted the bottle to his lips again, the brown liquid swishing.
“Why do you drink so much?” Liam was inches away from him now, his laser-focused expression fixed on him. Gabe laughed.
“To forget,” he rolled his head to the side to stare into that face and handed the bottle to his companion, his soldier at arms. “Drinking is like chasing a moment in this godforsaken hellhole where I can just stop.” He paused, not able to keep looking into those blue depths and brought his attention to the flames in front of him. The red and orange glow flickered and danced, moving shadows across the floor and his face. “That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? I can’t stop. I can never stop.”
A hand rested on his shoulder. It was the first gentle touch he’d had in months. He swallowed and bowed his head. His eyes closed as the wetness escaped down his face.