"Hey!"
A voice called from a distance, alerting the group of boys, all in cadet uniform, to its presence.
"Dustin! It's nice to see you are fine!"
The voice screamed again, closer to the group than it was before. The boys turned their heads in its direction to see its owner: a familiar figure in a white T-shirt wrapped around a chiseled physique, with jet-black hair and a broad smile on his face as he approached with three large bags dangling in his grasp.
"It's… It's vice capt– Bal–" one of the boys stuttered. His nostrils began flaring violently, and soon, sounds of sniffing filled the field. If Balair had felt as if all eyes were on him before, they now fell from him and were violently tearing away at the bags from the heavenly smell coming from them.
Even the normally put-together Dustin let out a drool or two as the smell hit his nose, his eyes glued to every slight rustle the bags made as their wielder drew closer.
Balair reduced his strides as he neared the platoon, studying the eyes that rested not on him but on the bags he held. He had wanted to give some to the platoon and then keep a plate or at least something for himself, but after seeing those eyes that bore holes into the bags, he resolved himself to throw any fantasies of that away before he got to the shade. It was nothing but that in the end.
A fantasy.
"I'm guessing you guys have met these beauties…" Balair said, still some distance from the shade, raising his hands to the air, the glued eyes following them as they ascended.
Finally, he joined the group under the shade, but even then, no words were spoken. The air under the shade was heavy with expectation instead of jubilation. On his arrival, Balair used one of his mind's hands to clean out an imaginary tear that almost escaped his eyes.
"I… urmm– I brought food…" He said as he set down the bags, almost as if he was trying his best to find the right words. As if confirming he'd won a jackpot, the tense air erupted in jubilation.
"Yes! Welcome back, vice captain!" Smiles were etched on the faces of the boys as some stood on the tips of their toes to get a glance at the contents of the heavenly bags their beloved vice captain had brought them.
"Urmmm– yeah, have at it…" Balair said, giving in to the silent demands the piercing eyes made to him, stepping back from the bags as he let them loose.
"Stop!" a voice thundered from behind the unchained cadets just as they prepared to pounce. The voice still bore the residue of its former softness, which was being eroded by the roughness of military life.
The voice slowly made its way to the middle of the gathering, and on getting there, he cleared his throat, swallowing hard in the process.
"Balair," he called, running his hands through his silver hair and swallowing hard again. As if he had finally gotten a hold of himself, he stretched out his right hand for a handshake.
"It is good to see you doing well, my friend," Dustin said with a smile, his hand held out only to be ignored and be pulled into a choking hug. Now a few centimeters in the air, he wasn't too startled because he more or less expected Balair to do just that, not the up-in-the-air part, though. The monster was just being himself, but he would allow it. For now…
It had been a good five seconds in that embarrassing position, and the silver-haired noble's face seemed to show he had already passed his limit. Balair, on noticing that, dropped him and then took the handshake he had previously been offered, all smiles.
"It is good to see you are doing fine, Dustin," Balair said, smiling broadly as he released Dustin's hand.
"It is swell to see you awake finally," Dustin replied, returning Balair's smile, all but with a somber taint in it. On closer inspection, Dustin looked like he had seen much better days. His eyes were low with dark circles under them, his pale skin somehow looked even paler under the setting sun, which should have been impossible, but it found a way to do just that.
"Let's drop all this formality. First order of business, Graveyard Platoon!" he paused, looking around with a fire in his dark eyes, glancing over the faces of his comrades, their eyes still glued to the bags and their peeking foil contents.
"We Feast!!" he screamed as he plopped on the soft grass just next to where he had dropped the bags.
"Gather 'round, come on, there should be more than enough for all of us to eat!" he said joyfully as he brought out the contents of the bags, container after container, brimming to their brims with food, giving generous servings of the various delicacies to the hungry cadets around him and, of course, giving a large share of it to Dustin. An entire container went to him, not after much protest from him, though, but Balair prevailed in the end.
"Phew… that was heavenly, vice captain! But, though, where did you get that much food from?" the boy who had first spotted Balair asked just as the last container had been emptied, the other cadets staring with eyes full of the same question.
"Oh…" Balair stopped himself from answering as he remembered something the old lady had told him while she had been packing up the food.
I did not give any of this to you…
That was the only sentence she completed without the annoying, unnecessary pauses.
"Oh… I was lucky…" he said as his voice trailed off, turning his head sharply to meet Dustin's distant gaze. Something was very clearly weighing greatly on him. Balair wanted to just blatantly ask, but knew better. He needed something to steer the direction of the conversation away from the source of the food; that old woman's glare wasn't something he wanted to test. And then, as if sent from heaven, another cadet asked another question.
"But damn, Balair, how did you two find yourselves in a falling gym? And we have a gym in the barracks? I thought only personnel had those…" Confusion was labeled on his face as he asked.
Those were a lot of questions, but he did just what he wanted.
Changed the topic.
"Ah! I'm sure Dustin had already told you about most of it. Must I start recounting every harrowing detail? Besides, I don't remember much from the incident, I mean, from what I was told, I got hit on the head around the same time Dustin went down." As Balair said this, he noticed Dustin perk up as his name was called, as if he had just been drawn out of his thoughts.
He suddenly cleared his throat and rose to his feet, drawing all the attention to himself.
"That is that for our gathering… let's meet here an hour after classes end tomorrow. I will need some time with the vice alone, please…" he said when he got their attention, his voice having a grim undertone.
He was serious, his eyebrows furrowed terribly.
The group of cadets, although disheartened, rose to leave the field, leaving the two alone.
After a minute or two with the last of the cadets now out of hearing distance, most now out of the field, the silence between the two was heavy.
It stayed that way for a few dozen seconds. Balair still sat with his eyes watching Dustin, who stood a few steps from him. He tried hard to read his face, but saw nothing but a body suffering from fatigue. He was tired, very much so; even the food he had been given was mostly untouched.
Though they had just met a few days ago, Balair felt their joint experience in the gym had solidified whatever flimsy strings tied them together.
Balair stayed silent instead, waiting for his friend to break the sour silence. And not long later, Dustin opened his mouth to speak.
"First of all, thank you." He said, much to the shock of Balair, who did not understand why he was being thanked. But before he could even ask for a reason for the thanks, Dustin added, not even bothering to elaborate on his strange appreciation. He bit his lips for a bit, his hands trembling slightly as he rolled them into fists.
"We were just challenged to a platoon battle…"