In this tale of pre-Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell forbidden love, Chas is a champion high school-level boxer turned paragon Naval officer who no one would dare accuse of being anything less than masculine. However, he secretly struggles with his homosexuality, which is known only by himself and Esmeralda, his best friend in the French Naval port of Toulon.
That is, until he’s found out by fellow gay crewman, Michael. The two spark up a relationship, but all is not well when Chas's homophobic bunkmate gets wind of their affair and reacts violently. Now Chas must defend not only himself, but Michael, as well.
“No ... no ... NO ... damn it!” Chas threw his pillow onto the floor in frustration. He normally wouldn’t make such a scene, but Don was still back at the bar and there was no one around to hear him cry out. He had searched the entire room and couldn’t find his journal. He knew Mme. Celine understood its importance, and Esmeralda even more so, but anyone else who found it ...
Chas curled his fist and threw a punch at an invisible opponent, followed by a flurry of punches. Boxing was one of the few things that truly calmed him down, that and writing. Both had been recommended to him by the guidance counselor during his freshman year of high school after he had been thrown in detention for fighting with an older student. Since then, he had been able to keep himself under control, but only because he thought he could use those tools to cover his secrets. He didn’t want to picture what it would be like if suddenly those secrets were set free. The fear was so agonizing it made Chas double over on the floor, clutching at his chest as he tried to swallow his tears.
“Ahem.” It was so quiet Chas barely heard it, but terror made him particularly aware of his surroundings and even this slight sound shot pins and needles of adrenaline racing through his blood. His head snapped up to see Michael standing in the doorway, both hands behind his back. “Hi.”
“... Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
“I -- I --” I will never be okay.
Michael stared down at his feet and shifted uncomfortably. “About that prostitute earlier ...”
“I told you not to be such a prude,” Chas snapped. “I don’t bother you about your private life, so don’t you judge me about mine.”
“You didn’t sleep with her though.” Michael looked up at Chas, his vivid blue eyes more curious than accusing.
Chas furrowed his brow. “What makes you say that?”
Michael cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his short hazelnut hair. A hint of color spread through his cheeks. He pulled his other hand from behind his back. It was clutching Chas’s lost journal. The room temporarily faded as Chas’s heartbeat grew loud and fast. “Where did you get that?”
“I took it. At the bar. Don said you were always writing things down, and I wanted -- I had suspected, but I didn’t know how to ask ...”
