August blinked like a deer in the headlights. "R-right, yeah... it's huge."

"That's what she said." The man's mouth stretched into a half-grin as he strolled over to the pond to get a closer look. He swirled a glass of amber liquid around before bringing it to his lips to take a heavy swig. It looked like whiskey, or a bourbon.

"... yeah, hah." August wasn't sure how to respond. He'd never been good at interacting with "bro"-dudes.

Even so, he couldn't stop staring at the man. He stood maybe six-feet or so, lean, clearly toned and muscular from the way his uniform hugged his frame—to perfection—Auggie thought. It looked tailored to him. The man's hair was a light auburn brown, cropped short like the rest of the Marines there. His was a lower fade, parted at the side, coiffed back neatly with pomade. He wore glasses; black-rims, and on their own they might've looked a bit nerdy. But on him, the end result was unexpectedly sexy.

"Shit's too loud for me," the man mumbled, gesturing toward the main reception. "Got invited or whatever, really only came for the free booze, though, if I'm honest."

August nodded. "Same, the noise um, I mean. I uh—my friend is a bridesmaid, so she asked me to come with her tonight."

The man smirked again, and Auggie just felt... exposed. It was like the man knew that he wasn't there for the alcohol just by looking at him. "Your friend, huh?"

"... yeah, well. She's my roommate, too." August took another steadying sip of his drink, noting the ice had begun to melt substantially.

The man looked around, almost like he was confirming no one else was looking, and then slipped his right hand in his pocket.

"She pretty?" he made his way around the pond, sipping, studying the fish, studying August.

"More than pretty, she's gorgeous. We're not a thing, though. Nothing like that." His shoulders fell as he spoke.

The man tilted his head and raked his eyes over the smaller man. "Dude, there's like, tons of women here. Should try your luck, never know."

August swallowed hard. "I'm not sure I'd be their type."

The guy chuckled, raised a brow in interest. "Oh?"

Auggie wasn't used to that kind of attention, the way the man looked at him with open interest. Even some confusion. Sort of like he was waiting for August to elaborate. He decided to change the subject. He felt embarrassed and clumsy.

Didn't help that the man was really attractive either, it made Auggie nervous.

"W-what about you, um, you got a date?" He rubbed the back of his neck.

The man shook his head, "nah, 'least not tonight."

August swallowed hard, watching in silence as the man pulled a phone out of his pocket, checked his texts. A naughty smirk tugged at his lips as he typed one-handed, while the other cradled that drink.

The man appeared to finish his texting and gave August a knowing look. "Tryna meet up with this girl," he smiled, gestured to his phone. "Ya know."

"Sure, yeah."

Just then Auggie began wishing his Mr. Wrong Number would text him, he'd feel better being able to at least pretend in front of this dude like he had the same kind of thing going on... and like that, his wish was granted. Auggie let out a muted gasp as his phone buzzed; he reached into his pocket and slipped his phone out, unable to hide the look on his face.

Mr. Wrong Number finally responded: "sounds like we're two peas in a pod then; could distract me from my 'plight' and tell me what you're into"

August felt his face redden again. His fingers hovered over the keyboard; he chewed on his lip and fought to come up with a decent answer. What did he mean by that? Like, sexually? August wasn't sure. He got off to porn, had preferences, but had no clue what it felt like to actually do the deed itself.

"Ah-ha," the guy chuckled. "See you got some game, man. Otherwise, you wouldn't be blushing at your phone like that. What she say?"

August looked around and cleared his throat. "... just um, like, what I'm into, I guess. Like, in bed."

The guy smirked. "Now, that's a good omen right there."

"... yeah. Maybe."

"Mind if I sit?"

He sauntered over and plopped down on the bench next to Auggie, not waiting for a response. August looked at his feet, scooting a bit to the left to make more room.

"Name's Glenn," the man offered his hand. Auggie took it, feeling shy because of how firm Glenn's grip was. It wasn't necessarily bad, it just made August feel like a small kid in a way.

He wished he were taller. Five-foot-five felt less impressive compared to Glenn's six-foot frame.

Auggie's cheeks warmed, and he found himself drawing his attention back to the Koi pond. Cue awkward silence.

His new buddy Glenn gave Auggie a firm, but friendly nudge with his elbow and chuckled. It made him sway a bit in his seat—after all—Auggie didn't weigh more than a buck-twenty.

"... and your name?"

Auggie shook his head and exhaled a nervous laugh, "uh... r-right, yeah. Um. August. I'm August."

Glenn nodded, draining the remainder of his glass at an impressive rate. "Well, nice to meet ya August."

More silence. After all, Auggie wasn't great at making conversation with strangers in general, let alone with hot strangers like Glenn. But it seemed this new acquaintance had easily picked up on his shy, socially awkward nature. But it's not like Auggie was good at hiding those aspects of his personality to begin with.

"You remind me of a dude in my platoon, ya know." Glenn sighed. He leant back on his hands and smirked. "He's like, super shy, but clever, and it's like you can just see him workin' shit out. There's a lot going on behind those beady little eyes."

August forced an awkward laugh, not sure whether that was a compliment or an insult.

"Uh... thanks, I guess?"

Glenn slapped him on the back and smirked. "Chill, bro, it's a compliment. Sharpe's a cool motherfucker, crazy accurate with his rifle too. Dude used to shoot squirrels and shit growing up in the south, he can hit pretty much anything... dudes definitely got some beady eyes, though. They're like, so dark, they almost look black."

August felt his heart pound just a bit heavier in his chest, he looked away.

Glenn's eyes traced lightly over Auggie's face, and he smirked again. "Yours look like amber, ya know. Far from beady..." 

Auggie rubbed his hands together—fidgeted—and he wasn't quite sure how to respond. Glenn was... hot, confident, talkative, laidback, and annoyingly good at making conversation. Like, he wasn't even nervous. He had everything going for him that Auggie didn't.

"T-thanks."

A soft pause of silence fell between them, but Glenn didn't seem phased.

"You're a nervous fellow," he added thoughtfully. "How come?"

Auggie furrowed his brows and smiled a little, almost in disbelief, and embarrassment. Glenn doesn't really seem put off by anything.

"That's like, sort of personal a question..." he twisted in his seat and took a heavy drink of liquid courage. "Not like you seem the type to be put off by personal, though."

Glenn laughed, "you'd be right about that. I'm too fuckin' nosy for my own good."

Glenn was also way too hot for his own good, and his personality didn't seem too bad either, in fact, it made him seem more inviting, and Auggie couldn't help but give into his questioning.

"Fine," August set his glass down and leaned back on his palms. "But only cause you're a stranger and I'll probably never see you again."

"Fair," Glenn chuckled and gestured with his hand, "proceed."

Auggie rolled his eyes at this playfulness, it was cute, if not slightly intimidating. Even so, he still found himself ready to fess up in ways he rarely did—least of all to random, hot men.

"... Anyway," August stifled a smirk and looked away, because that sort of attention made him nervous. "I guess the short part of it is that I'm awkward, depressed, anxious, annoyingly particular about a lot of things cause I'm Autistic, naturally also a nerd, but not like, in the cool way, ya know? More like, I can tell you everything about the Weyland Yutani corporation and every fact about the Alien universe, like... ever, among other weirdly specific shit. Point is my special interests tend to bore people. I suck at making conversation. I don't usually like people in general or leaving my apartment... and I guess more than anything, I dislike myself. I hate looking in the mirror. Hard to feel or be confident when you're a shut-in loser like me."

Glenn didn't say anything for a moment. He furrowed his brows in thought, studying August for what felt like quite some time—as if he were trying to decide how much of Auggie's story were true, or just his own insecurities speaking in place of that truth. Perhaps Glenn thought it was a mix of both.

Auggie began to grow uncomfortable, anxious, and he had half a mind to just get up and leave. Perhaps I've scared him off, he thought. But much to his surprise, Glenn didn't appear too phased.

He pointed to himself, the expression in his eyes spoke of laughter. Not joyous, but with abject self-deprecation. That's also when Auggie noticed how blue the man's eyes were. No, no, they were so pale they almost appeared grey depending on the lighting. Like pearls, or the palest blue sky he'd ever seen. Of course they're gorgeous.

"I'm a depressed fucker too," he smirked. "Yes, yes, a peacetime Marine who spends most his time between Pendleton and Twenty-Nine; spend four years of my life cleaning shit, getting railed by command, training for a war I missed by like, a fucking year. Some days I can't decide how much I love it or hate it, and I think it's both, but if given the chance to do it all over again... I'd still choose it every time. Plus, there's the fact that it feels like everything has changed about me... but also not at the same time? Going home is fuckin' weird. Add a crippling nicotine addiction, and I probably drink too much—well—okay, fine. I definitely drink too much on the weekends, and I tell myself I'm not doing it to cope with my own bullshit, but I know deep down that I am. Sometimes I think it would be fun to toss myself into traffic, but I dunno. Kinda wanna hold off on that for a bit, wait till I get out, and try my hand at college. Who knows. I hear civvie life sorta sucks too, but at least I could go to therapy or something."

Words died in August's throat. Glenn looked serious, but he was smiling the whole time, and it was wholly forced. The kind of front you put on when you're trying to cover up how awful you really feel.

"... oh."

"Yeah, don't be fooled. I ain't got my shit together neither."

Wordlessness stretched between the pair, and the noise of crickets, the hum of the party, and low chatter from people seemed to take over. As depressing, and strangely personal a turn the conversation had taken, Auggie found himself feeling much braver as a result. Less like a freak, perhaps not so alone. The men couldn't be more different from one another, but Auggie couldn't help feeling a strange sort of connection to Glenn all the same.