Military honors
He smiled as the cameras flashed, despite the reporter's phlegm flying dangerously close to his face. He was a star wasn't he? The best sharpshooter, now the best commanding officer. They heaped awards onto him like roses after the final pirouette. He smiled painstakingly through it all, but he remembered little of his war efforts. Only one face was embedded into his brain. Bryan. The only worthwhile thing about the war. When they had kissed for the first time...God he'd have to be dead to forget that. He stood there and smiled modestly as praise was heaped onto him, but all he could think about was the way he tasted-like the end of a long day. He jerked to attention as the reporter asked if there was anyone he'd miss, any losses he'd never recover from. No longer smiling, he spoke briskly and piercingly. Bryan Walting, he was a good friend.
He regained his composure and inserted a bigger smile, "Let's continue shall we?"
And he could barely keep the hatred from spilling out of his veins, that the same people who were fawning over his every move would turn away with disgust if they knew the truth.