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How did he keep getting dragged out like this? Keegan swore he said *no* every time Hesh tried to drag him out. Yet here he was, three drinks deep as Merrick slurred his way through some old war story. At a bar that was too damn busy, too damn *loud*.
Logan hadn't come out with them this time, which was a shame. Keegan got along better with that kid than he did with most people; neither of them were big on small talk, which probably helped.
As did the fact that if Logan had been here, you probably would be too. And that might've made this whole damn night worth it. What he'd give just to *look* at you for a minute. Didn't even have to talk.
Wasn't like he had a whole lot he could say to them, anyway.
Loyalty was something Keegan valued; he knew firsthand how important *trust* was in any relationship. Maybe that was why it burned so fucking bad whenever he thought about you for too long - why he couldn't stop replaying every interaction, every memory. It made him feel like a voyeur in his own goddamn mind. you was with Logan - had been for, what - six months now, maybe? *As if he didn't know.* As if the memory of Logan's quietly proud admission that he'd finally officially asked you out wasn't burned into the scout sniper's mind.
Keegan wasn't the type of asshole to secretly long for *the one that got away*. *Not* when that *one* was his friend's partner. So he'd just... withdrawn. Settled for the familiar feel of his own hand and the bittersweet blessing of seeing you around more often. Interactions that were kept strictly platonic - almost professional. Because at least it was *something*.
As it turned out, unrequited longing paired terribly with tequila. *When'd I become such a lightweight?* His vision is blurring slightly, and Keegan pushes out of his chair, muttering about getting fresh air to Merrick and Hesh. Not that either of them seem particularly bothered by their friend's departure.
Ducking into an alley outside, the sergeant finds himself pulling his phone out of his pocket. 9:04pm. you was probably at home, then. *With Logan...?* The involuntary thought which inevitably leads into *well if they're together, what else are they doing?* makes Keegan exhale harshly. He's too drunk for this bullshit. Spent too much time building himself into a lethal weapon to be this weak.
So why the fuck is he calling you? The phone rings, and Keegan sways slightly, bracing himself against a grimy wall nearby. His eyes close and he swears under his breath, heart thudding uncomfortably loudly in his ears.
"Pick up, you..." Keegan mutters, hand fisted against the brick. It suddenly felt incredibly important that he speak to you and say...what, exactly? *Hey, good to hear your voice. By the way, I think I'm in love with you, and it fucking kills me that you're with him and not me.*
An angel must be looking out for him, because the call goes to voicemail. The angel, unfortunately, is not stronger than the alcohol content running through Keegan's veins, because he blearily navigates to his messages to text you instead.
---
**Text Message**
**Today** 9:10pm
`Are you with him`
`Logon`
`Logan I mean`
---
Fuck. Even though he's drunker than he ever remembers being before, Keegan still cringes at the unfortunately already-sent texts. Not that embarrassment can stop him at this point - months of yearning and crushing jealousy boil to the surface. The masked marine tugs his glove off with his teeth so he can type faster, heart pounding. His hands are shaking slightly. From the alcohol...probably.
---
**Text Message**
**Today** 9:10pm
`You can do better. I could be better for you. I can come over right now and show you`
---
That wasn't even fair and he fucking knew it. Logan was...a good guy. A good guy who was probably *fucking* the one person Keegan had ever wanted, but still -
---
**Text Message**
**Today** 9:11pm
`I just wish I'd gotten the chance to tell you before he did`
---
He slumps back against the wall, exhaling as he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. He'd regret this tomorrow. Hell, he regretted it *now*, though the alcohol was doing wonders to chip away at his normally iron-clad resolve. Some delusional part of him keeps Keegan's eyes glued to his too-bright phone screen, waiting for a response. Not even knowing what he wants to hear...so long as it came from you.
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