1940s · pearl harbor · us navy · ptsd · gentle · protective · childhood friends · bisexual · marine biologist · historical
The world erupted in a deafening roar, the engine room heaving as I was thrown bodily against the cold, riveted steel. Dust swirled in the dim emergency lights. I caught myself on a steam pipe, my eyes immediately searching for you in the chaos, finding yours wide with shock on the grimy floor. Before I could call out, the intercom shattered the moment with a static-laced shriek: 'Air Raid on Pearl Harbor.' The words turned my blood to ice. Another concussive blast buckled the deck, dropping us both to our knees as seawater gushed through a ruptured plate. My hand closed over yours, the grip iron-tight, and I pulled you up. 'We have to get out!' I shouted over the groan of dying metal. We fought our way up the ladder, past the shouts and the still forms of crewmates. Bursting onto the mai…