Wilkes cleared his throat. “You going to invite me in then?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Come on!” Balkhi led him to a tiny lift in the corner of the vestibule and pressed the button for the third floor. When it arrived, they stepped in, waited to be delivered to their floor, keeping a respectable distance between them at all times, then exited. Another door stood between them and the flats. Balkhi pressed a keyring-type thing to a sensor, then pulled it open.

A moment later they were in front of flat number sixteen—Balkhi’s place. Finally. Once they were inside, once they had some privacy, they could say what they really meant, and do what they really wanted to do.

Balkhi couldn’t get that damn door open quickly enough, in Wilkes’ opinion.

Just pulled into a parking space downstairs. I’m here! H x

Balkhi would have to buzz him into the building—apparently they’d had issues with anti-social behaviour in the past, so the only people that could access the building now, even the communal areas, were those with keys.

Returning his phone to his pocket, Wilkes began gathering his belongings from the front of the car, before exiting and moving around to the boot. Popping it open, he retrieved his weekend bag, then closed up and locked the vehicle. Looking around—fortunately the car park was well-lit, so he could see where he was going—he spotted one of the doors that stood between him and his boyfriend. He strode purposefully towards it, not wanting to waste any more time—they only had the weekend together.

As he reached the outer door, he realised he wouldn’t need to be buzzed in, after all. Standing just on the other side, visible through the glass, was Balkhi. The Afghan swung the door open so quickly that Wilkes had to jump back to avoid being smacked in the face.

Balkhi gasped. “Shit, sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Wilkes replied, shrugging.

Then, unexpectedly, there was silence. Wilkes’ heart pounded again. Crap—what was going on? Since when did the two of them have nothing to say to each other? Then he realised—it wasn’t that they had nothing to say, it was that they had so much to say that apparently neither of them could decide how to begin. There was also the fact they were in public to consider.

His heart pounded as he flicked on the reading light, then grabbed a piece of paper from the passenger seat, which detailed his journey. He hadn’t needed it up until now—being fairly familiar with London—but a glance towards the bottom of the page gave him the details he needed to locate Balkhi’s block of flats. So close—he could see the damn building, but apparently needed to be on the opposite side to gain access to the car park. A set of traffic lights and a junction later and he was rolling over a speed hump… finally!

Meticulous as ever, Balkhi had even told him which part of the car park was closest to his place. If he could find a space in that section—although the flats had spaces, they weren’t allocated—then he wouldn’t have so far to carry his stuff. Not that it mattered—he was plenty strong enough and didn’t have anything heavy, anyway. Years in the military had taught him how to pack light. And he’d have carried an elephant if it meant he got to see Balkhi.
Spotting a slot, Wilkes headed for it, pulling in carefully, then turning off the reading light and the engine. Taking his phone from his pocket, he fired off a text message.

Each song on the radio that finished signalled another bunch of miles less that he had to travel before he reached his destination. So, although each respective tune wasn’t necessarily better than the last, it was worthier of celebration. Before long, Wilkes exited the M3 and passed through the fashionable, expensive areas west of London—Twickenham, Richmond, Battersea. Then Clapham, and a turn towards the river eventually brought him into Stockwell.

He didn’t know the area, but Balkhi had explained what a great location it was—close to a Tube station, giving him easy access to the university hospital on the south bank of the Thames. Even better, it was outside of the congestion zone, and the accommodation came with its own parking space, meaning Wilkes could drive right up to the block of flats without incurring any charges, or have the hassle of finding somewhere to leave his vehicle.

Wilkes couldn’t help smirking as he thought about some of the situations they’d gotten into together. A trip to Camp Bastion and accidentally bumping into each other in the shower area had started it all off, followed by taking advantage of the relative privacy of an accommodation block. Then there’d been the blowjobs in the briefings tent, the insanely risky clinches in Wilkes’ tent… Christ, how had they never been caught? Heat flushed his cheeks at the erotic flashbacks, and he had to shove them forcefully from his mind and drag his attention back to the road before he caused an accident.

They’d always known things between them were never going to be simple, not even on returning to the UK. Neither man was “out.” And although it had been far too dangerous for Balkhi to come out in Afghanistan, there was no reason he couldn’t be openly gay here. Wilkes, on the other hand, had the reactions of his family, friends and colleagues to consider. He was certain all the people that mattered would quickly get over the shock of discovering his sexuality and accept it, but he still couldn’t shake the worry that it would adversely affect his career. His immediate superior, a homophobic old bastard by the name of Major Graham Hunter, often made his life unpleasant as it was, and that was without knowing Wilkes batted for the other side.

Wilkes had felt terrible. His return had taken place a few weeks before Balkhi’s, so although he’d been granted some leave for R&R, he hadn’t been able to either spend it with Balkhi, or to use it help him with his relocation. By the time Balkhi had set foot on British soil, Wilkes was back to work. And, given nobody knew about the two of them, or even that Wilkes was gay, he couldn’t exactly ask for more leave in order to help his boyfriend move into his new flat.

Life had conspired against them ever since, so this was the first opportunity they’d had to see each other since saying goodbye in Afghanistan all those weeks ago. They’d communicated via email, text message and phone calls, but it just wasn’t the same. Especially since they’d gone from seeing each other every single day for the best part of six months to not setting eyes on each other for weeks on end.

Wilkes had struggled terribly in the interim. Life had been tough enough while they were still out in the desert. After weeks and weeks of trying desperately to ignore their growing attraction, they’d finally given in to it. It had been stupid and risky, but, having quickly realised there was more to their attraction than the physical, they’d decided to carry on their relationship in secret while they were in Afghanistan, see how it went, and figure things out once Wilkes’ tour of duty was over. Balkhi had always intended to return to the UK for his studies, so they would, at least, be living in the same country.