“Your ears don’t stick out, Arch. Besides, your natural blush is kind of cute.”

He grins at me, takes another drink, and hands the bottle to me. He coughs and sputters, pounding a fist against his chest.

“But no, you won’t hallucinate. You’ll just feel a little…lighter?” I take a few swigs and swallow down the burn. “Out of everything, that’s what scares you the most? Your Great Aunt Becky?”

“No…there are other things. Like owls,” he whispers.

“Owls?”

“Yeah, they’re creepy. Have you ever seen one twist its head?” He shivers at the thought. “And whistling at night.”

“Why’s that?”

“I know it seems so silly…but it’s a bad omen.”

“If you think that’s silly, fire scares me.”

“Fire?”he repeats.

“Yeah…” I mutter, glancing back down at the bottle in my hands, taking another gulp.

He shrugs the longer he sits with my answer. “That’s pretty logical, though. Fire can be scary.”

“And myself.” My voice drops to a whisper, so low I’m wondering if he heard me.

He blinks, raising his eyebrows. “You know…don’t take this personally. But...you’re really not all that intimidating.”

I chuckle. “Ahh, so now you tell me the truth? I must have forgotten to mention they say alcohol unleashes what you’ve always wanted to say.”

Maybe I should slow down. Before I say too much.

But the words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. “No. I’m scared I’ll make the wrong decisions. That I’m not capable. That no matter what I do, even if I’m trying to make the right choice, it’ll still destroy the people I love. And that scares me.”

“Trying to do the right thing is scary,” Archie agrees softly.

Our eyes connect, solemn and somber. It’s unsettling to witness him with such a mellow expression, as if he’s containing a silent, hidden storm waiting to break a sunny day. And it’s the first time I’ve noticed how much his smile softens his face. Without it, and his dimpled cheeks when he grins, his angles are sharp. If he didn’t have his infectious cheery optimism I'd come to know, I would never think he’s a soldier.

A sad tension lingers between us, hanging like an invisible fog.

“More?” I lift the bottle to him, trying to break through the silence and heaviness of the moment.

He shakes me off. “If I have any more, I might throw up.”

I laugh and stand as I cork the bottle shut. My feet move sluggishly beneath me as I walk over to the desk to set the bottle down.

Archie’s face pales. He jolts to his feet and covers his mouth with his hand. “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

He wobbles, and I slingshot forward, steadying him before he falls. We both giggle as we lock eyes and sway as if there’s a hidden wind in the room pushing into us.

I try to settle him. “You’ll be okay. Let’s get some fresh air. That always seems to help.”

We slip out of my room and off into the night, a stumbling mess of heavy feet and hushed giggles until we get to the outer wall of the outpost. My arm linked into his, and both of us taking turns to brace the other. I don’t pull my foot quite high enough to clear a rock and trip.

Archie is pulled down with me, and we hit the ground with a thud. Another laugh bursts from our lungs. I push myself up to my hands and knees as my gaze scans the forest ahead.

“Dae...ja?”

“Yessss?”Her voices hisses, as if deep underwater. “Why do you ssssound ssso...different?”