Chapter Text
"You can call me Bee." Your introduction is rather brief. You muster up a smile at the group of strangers as you introduce yourself to the KorTac members with your call sign.
The first thing König notices about you is your eyes. He recognizes them, behind the color of your irises.
Not in a way that he knew the person they belonged to. More in a way that he's seen them before, every morning in front of the mirror. Eyes that have seen too much and are weary and tired and heavy. Eyes that belong to someone who has been through stuff that might better not to be talked about.
When you briefly meet his gaze, his eyes move to the floor.
Perhaps it is the hidden sadness in your eyes that sparks his interest in you. Or perhaps the mirror of himself that he finds in them. He wasn't sure. He just knows that at that given moment it was probably none of his business, so he won't ask. Even if he had the courage to do so. And so he doesn't say anything. Just like he always does.
•••
They call him König. You learn that when you read through medical files of the KorTac operators. He's had a number of gun shot wounds before, though no knife wounds. Ever. Though then again there most likely weren't many people that would take on a mountain of a man in close combat. He'd probably be able to crush their skull with his bare hand if he wanted to. Or would he? You huff into your hand when you remember the way he averted eye contact as you introduced yourself.
König. You'd definitely remember that name.
You flip the page as you reach out for your cup of coffee.
To say that you being contracted by KorTac was out of nowhere was probably an understatement. 'A good change of pace', your past commanding officer said. 'You look like you need it.'
It made you want to laugh. Being an on field combat medic you dedicated your whole life to saving your comrades on field. Or at least risking your own life in an attempt to do so. The last mission you've been involved in was the worst with the memory of your best friend dying in your arms as you try to drag them through heavy snow with bleeding, frozen fingers and broken ribs, and more dead bodies of fallen friends, comrades than you could count on your two blood smeared, clammy hands. Untold promises and confessions being buried with them six feet under as all you can do is clench a golden medal in your hands that weren't even able to save a single one of the people you were close to.
You've been contemplating on just throwing the medal away for quite a while, but it just ended up lost somewhere in a tiny box in your closet, probably never to see the day of light again.
It wasn't the first mission with that sort of outcome. But it certainly was the worst.
There were six occasions in total in your life. Six in which you've basically died trying to save the people closest to you, but somehow came back to life. They never came back like you did. They stayed dead. It's a fact that taunts you and weighs heavy on your weary shoulders. And the last mission must have finally given you the rest of it, or at least that's what you've been told by others.
Which brings you to KorTac. Seemingly needed as a medic but also on field. You ended up signing the papers in a haze without properly reading through them. Perhaps that's why you were now sitting in the infirmary at 4 am, browsing through medical files belonging to strangers and feeling a bit lost or rather... abandoned? Did you even have a right to feel that way? After all you've done for your past team you suddenly get tossed away, pushed aside, somewhere far back like the golden medal you hid away somewhere in the darkness of your closet.
Did they not need you anymore? Did too many people die in your arms for someone to deem that you might be needed somewhere else, just not there?
No matter how much you thought of it, you were still shaken. Cut to the quick, that the blood of your comrades still felt like it was flaking from underneath your nails, no matter how often you washed them. You could still hear their whispers and last words from when they laid in your arms as they bled out. Their voices well up inside you. Bloat you. They feel wrong inside your head - they don't fit inside your skin.
Sometimes it felt like there was no room left for your own voice in your head.
So you stopped thinking about it. You signed the papers for the transfer without any questions asked and that's all there was to it. That's why you were here.
You take a sip of coffee. It's cold and leaves a sour aftertaste behind. You wonder if they had a glass of honey perhaps hidden somewhere in the base's kitchen.
•••
König likes winter.
He likes to sit outside and watch as the snow falls.
Snow makes things quiet and the cold breath of air makes for a clear mind. Plus there were less missions in the winter. Perhaps all the terrorism was something kept for the haze of the summer heat, he wasn't too sure. There were no group combat exercises or meetings in the winter, as it was a low time for missions overall. And the base was much more quiet than usual with some KorTac members having left to visit their families and friends over the holidays. König was one of the few that always stayed.
In his opinion it was a rather peculiar time to have a new member join the group.
He doesn't quite know what to make of you yet. The last time he saw you was two weeks ago when you had introduced yourself to the team. Ever since then you've been out of sight. But with the glass of honey being out of it's usual space in the kitchen, sometimes even left out next to the coffee machine, he just was certain that 'Bee' was a rather fitting code name for you. Though he had yet to see what it actually meant on field.
"König."
The man turns his head to the side, to be greeted by Aksel with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He stands up and brushes the snow off his pants. "Off to see your grandfather?"
Aksel huffs. "He's not getting younger, you know. Want to spend holidays with that old man while I can." König nods understandingly and it's quiet for a while. Just the snow softly falling to the ground.
"You not going home?" König blinks at Aksel then slowly shakes his head. "No. Not this year."
It's not that he didn't want to. If anything, there were times in which he couldn't stop thinking about the Christmas market that was being held in his hometown every year. Winters like these made him think of mulled wine and gingerbread and how pretty the Christmas lights looked at night.
But even if there was a way for him to indulge in all of that, König knows that he'd probably still feel out of place. So he stays. Like every year.
Aksel pats a hand on König's shoulder. "Alright then. Don't stay out here for too long, big guy."
König nods and the man waves and walks off. He sits back down and leans against the wall. Maybe he'd have the courage to visit home next year. Maybe.
He watches the snow fall. He thinks about his hometown, freshly baked Vanillekipferl, the smell of roasted chestnuts and even fleetingly about you. He wonders if you're visiting home, too, despite just having arrived at HQ. There were plenty of KorTac members staying despite the holidays. Be it for being on mandatory standby or for personal reasons. Were you one of the latter?
König's breath forms in little clouds through his sniper hood. The cold air helps him clear his mind. He wants to watch the snow some more. Just a little longer.
•••
It's Christmas, you realize checking your phone for the time. It is yet again close to 5 am and you've been spending yet another night at your desk in the infirmary. Be it because part of you still couldn't get settled into the room that was assigned to you or because the infirmary being closer to the coffee machine in the shared kitchen than the personal quarters. Part of you wondered whether it was too early to you joining to inquire for a second coffee machine within the infirmary. Though then again, having one there might give you even less of a reason to leave your desk. You might as well just move in there if that ever happened.
The bags under your eyes feel heavy and your neck feels stiff. The words of the book in front of you look blurry. You rub your eyes and look out of the window. The snow is falling heavy and thick around base.
You don't like snow. You don't like winter. Specifically Christmas. It's far too cold and brings back memories that you'd rather forget. Memories of a prior Christmas with red mixing into the white canvas of a snowy landscape and ashes falling from the sky, but not melting against burning skin. Memories that make you wonder whether it would have been better to just stay buried under the snowfall along with your comrades. Instead time just went on and unfolded in front of your eyes in the rather discouraging way that time does.
You blink. Your eyelids feel like lead, being pulled downward by gravity. Perhaps it was time for a rest. But the voices in your head haunt you in your sleep. They get louder and more suffocating. They don't leave any space for anything else. And so you stay awake. For as long as you can. Until you eventually do fall asleep and the cycle repeats. Today would be different however. For today was a day on which the voices were the loudest, bloating you, whispering right into your ear. And they sure as hell weren't wishing you a Merry Christmas.
Not now, you think with weary eyes, not today.
You stand up from the creaking office chair and stretch before grabbing your empty coffee mug and heading to the kitchen.
There's not much around KorTac HQ to indicate that it was Christmas. Not like there should be, but it made you think that you probably wouldn't even realize that it was Christmas in the first place, hadn't you seen the date on your phone earlier. Maybe the miniature Christmas tree on the coffee table in the common area would have reminded you a few days after about how you missed the passing holidays in which it was especially quiet around base. And maybe that would have been better. You'd still have hell falling asleep, but at least the voices wouldn't fill you up like they did now.
"Merry Christmas! Here is your gift. Come on, open it!"
You laugh as your friend hands you a box that was decorated with a way too oversized bow on top. "You sure you want me to open it? Looks like you're the one who's more excited about it. Maybe you should open it?"
A hand playfully pushes against your shoulder as you laugh. "Fine, fine. Just give me a second." You gently tug on the bow until it falls off. The flaps of the box slowly unfurl against each other to reveal its hidden contents.
"Candy?"
Your friend nods as you inspect the little honeycomb shaped pieces of sugar. "They're cute, right? I saw them at this candy shop downtown and for some reason they had me thinking of you."
You move your face closer to the open box for an experimental sniff before your friend continues. "They taste of-"
"-Honey."
There is a big, unknown mountain of a man standing in the kitchen area, right in front of the stovetop and right next to the coffee machine. He is dressed in a black sweater, some matching sweatpants, and... a sniper hood?
König, your brain automatically matches to the person.
For a second you hesitate. Should you come back later? Would it be too awkward? You've barely gotten to talk with any of your fellow KorTac members. Part of it was probably brought by your own fault for basically barricading yourself behind the doors of the infirmary and trying to memorize details of each and every member's medical file that might come in as essential in the future, but on the other hand the season was probably also to blame.
Who would contract someone right before holidays? It had you wondering the first night you spent at HQ. On the other hand it's not like you had a place to return to over the holidays anyways. Ah, maybe that's why.
You stare at the massive back that is turned towards you. König doesn't seem to have noticed you, as you hear him quietly humming of what you assume is a Christmas song. The notes are kind of off, but you can make it out to be Silent Night. You haven't heard that one in a while. What was he doing out at five in the morning anyways? Then again, you usually picked up your last cup of coffee at around four, so maybe this was just his usual waking time. You fumble with the cup in your hand.
Your eyes wander across the common area that is connected to the kitchen. The snowflakes look even bigger than they did before you left the infirmary. Maybe some snow shoveling would do the trick and keep you awake? Then again, going out in that sort of weather really does not tickle your fancy. Guess it's time to just swallow my pride for a cup of coffee.
"Good... Good morning."
Out of all things to happen you did not expect the man to twitch and let out even the quietest of yelps. His humming turns into a desperate attempt of disguising it for clearing his throat, before he turns to you, eyes wide. They're icy blue, you realize. They're pretty, you realize again. Though the part of you thinking that was probably delirious with lack of sleep by now.
For a second you wonder whether you just said that out loud, because the man just stares at you with wide eyes almost like a deer staring into headlights. Until he finally clears his throat again and finds his voice. "Good morning..." He has a slight accent.
Upon seeing the cup in your hand, he doesn't say anything but turns back to the counter. You can barely make out how he opens the coffee machine and replaces the old filter and grinds with a fresh set, before hitting the start button. You blink. "Oh... Thanks."
König subtly nods, still facing the stovetop.
Yup. You really don't know what to make of this man.
Your hands wrap around your cup, unsure of what to do. You eventually decide on sitting down at the dining table while waiting for the machine to finish brewing. The awkward silence lingers as you once again glance at the window across the common area. The lights of the miniature Christmas tree on the coffee table reflects off the glass. You swear you can almost hear the man humming under his breath again. It's quiet. Peaceful. It almost feels domestic. You quickly shake that last thought off your head.
"Are you always up this early?" Your mouth started talking before you could even think about it. Be it for distracting yourself from having weird thoughts about strangers in scenarios that were definitely not reserved for somebody like you, or keeping yourself from falling asleep as you waited for your much needed cup of coffee. You weren't sure. But it was at least something to fill the silence in the room.
"Sometimes." König's voice is a bit quiet, but you can still make it out over the sizzling on the stovetop.
Or not.
One of your hand wanders to the back of your neck, rubbing it nervously. Was there anything else to talk about? What was sizzling on that pan anyways? Your nose twitches upon meeting the smell coming off the stove. It smells great. And it makes you realize that you haven't had a proper meal ever since you arrived here. The past few weeks you've been surviving off instant food and coffee. And you thanked heavens that winter wasn't an active time for missions. You'd probably be hating yourself if you were trying to even remotely do any sorts of physical activity right now. Maybe just another reason that made shoveling snow outside a bad idea.
Your stomach grumbles. Ah. You briefly see the man turn his head to the side before turning his head back to the counter. Your hand moves from your neck to the bridge of your nose and you try to hold back a strained sigh. Way to make a first impression.
There's some clattering when the man opens one of the cabinets for some plates and another for some tableware. Before you even know it he walks towards the dining table and places a plate full of scrambled eggs and sausages in front of you. You freeze. König walks back to the stovetop. You want to open your mouth to say something but he's faster.
"I was making some for the others anyways. Since it's Christmas and all." You stare at the plate in front of you. It feels warm and inviting and you can barely help yourself from drooling a bit at the sight of it. You glance at the man. His back is turned to you, once more. Perhaps he just wasn't one for lots of words. That's fine, you thought.
"That's nice of you. Thank you, König." His movement halts upon hearing his name. But he soon resumes back to scrambling the eggs on the pan. You chow down on the food and swear that it probably was the best thing you've had in months, if not even years. Whichever, it's clearly been too long.
You let out a delightful sigh as you finish the plate just in time for the coffee machine to finish. And once again, before you can even make a move, König scrambles around again. "Oh, that's fine, I can do that myself-"
He moves towards the table, the coffee can in one hand and the glass of honey along with a spoon in the other.
"Thank... you..." This time it's your turn to watch him with big eyes as he nonchalantly places everything on the table, grabs your empty tableware to place them in the sink and resumes back to the skillet on the stove without a word. You blink.
Not everyone drank their coffee with honey, if even at all. Most people you knew preferred sugar over honey in their coffee because latter had a rather distinctive taste. So how would he-
"You leave it out, sometimes. Next to the coffee machine. Nobody else has been using it before. So I thought that's just how you preferred your coffee..." The man pauses nervously, shifting the weight of his body from one leg to another. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be weird about it or anything," he quickly adds.
The small bubble of laughter that forms in your voice makes his shoulder relax a bit. But he still turns to you, same wide blue eyes as earlier. "So I left it out sometimes... Sorry about that." König lets out a quiet grunt and turns his back to you again. You pour the coffee into your cup and stir a spoonful of honey into the hot beverage.
The silence between the two of you has turned into something much more comfortable. Still a bit awkward and clumsy, but also reassuring. It almost makes you forget why you were in the kitchen in the first place. Whether that was a good or a bad thing was yet for you to decide.
You move from your still way too hot coffee to the sink. Rolling up the sleeves of your sweater. König glances at you like he is about to say something but you smile at him. You have to crane your neck to meet his gaze. "I can do this one."
He doesn't say anything in reply. He just stands next to you, still busy at the stove while you wash your dishes in silence until you look for the nearest kitchen towel to dry your hands on. König reaches over to you, towel ready in hand. You huff.
"You're very kind, König. Thank you." You're not sure if it's your half asleep self that makes you say it, but you know that there is some truth in that sentence. The man simply rubs the back if his neck. You can see the way his eyebrows crinkle behind his hood.
You turn to the table, grabbing the cup that was now filled with black, liquid goodness again. It reflects your image back at you, almost tauntingly, reminding you don't fall asleep, no matter what. And that was exactly what you were afraid of happening if you stayed any longer in the peaceful silence that has unintentionally been created within the kitchen area.
You take a few steps, back towards the infirmary, before you halt in your step, just one last time, turning towards the hooded man.
"Merry Christmas, König."
You turn and take a few more steps before you can hear a quiet reply from behind.
"Merry Christmas, Bee."
•••
There were many things König wanted to ask you. From the heavy bags under your eyes to your empty mug. Why were you up? For how long have you been up? How many cups of coffee have you had by now? Wouldn't it be better to just go to sleep?
He gently places the eggs on a plate and gets to frying the sausages.
Did you not have a place to return to over the holidays?
But he didn't ask. You still were strangers to each other and in König's head if there were things or topics that could hurt, they hurt less when they're buried instead. Even if it's just simple questions like that. After facing death for so many years that's just how things were. He knew that. So he couldn't ask.
He remembers the way you smiled at him with tired eyes. When he reaches for the spatula his finger brushes against the hot iron of the skillet. He hisses. "Scheiße..." His hand instinctively moves under his hood to his mouth.
You called him kind. That's another thing that was probably going to be stuck in his head, playing on repeat for a while.
He wonders whether the breakfast was to your liking.
•••
It's cold out. So unforgivingly cold. The cold air feels like daggers stabbing into your lungs and your breath forms into big clouds in front of your face. Thick snowflakes make it hard to see as you slowly walk through heavy snow, your best friend dragging behind you. It smells of fire and your fingers burn under your grip around their waist.
There's a red trail the two of you leave behind. You heave, a stinging pain in one of your organs, you couldn't tell which one at this point anymore because your entire body just hurt, refused to work the way you wanted it to, even though it had to, just this once, just one last time because 'You can't die on me. Not you too. Especially not you' and 'We will make it, I will get us out of here' and 'I'd rather die than leave you out here'.
You slip and fall, your vision is getting blurry, be it because of the tears forming in your eyes, blood loss, organ failure or exhaustion. Whichever of those options it was, you had to keep on moving. Because regardless, the clock was ticking, the puddles of blood on your friend weren't getting smaller.
"Bee. It's okay."
You somehow manage to stand up, worming your arms around the almost limp body of your friend again. When you're about to continue on your way, you slip yet again and fall. You really hated the snow.
"Bee."
You sniff. Another try. You must resemble a newborn fawn with the way your knees were shaking to hold the weight of your body. Your throat aches. It feels far too dry.
You weren't sure who the blood on your hands belonged to anymore. It's been on there for far too long, you swear that even with extensive washing, you probably wouldn't be able to get rid of all of it. Yet your hands still find their place around your friend once again. You pull and-
You fall onto the snow. "Fuck."
"Bee!"
This time the voice of the other person is clear and firm, it cuts through freezing air like a knife before it's followed by a cough and red- more red being wretched out onto the snow.
"Bee, there's no use." A weak smile forms on blood smeared lips. "You can... still make it on your own. Just leave me... I'm done for." You want to scream but there is no air in your lungs.
"I want you... I want you to live, Bee."
You always thought that the loneliest moment in someone's life would probably be when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they could do is stare blankly. Yet you never imagined that yours would unfold the exact way that it did. Not with your friend's smile slowly fading from their lips and the little clouds of breath not forming anymore in front of their face and their body growing limp as you yourself slowly lose your vision. You were dying beside your friend.
Maybe that was okay, you thought. Maybe it just finally was your time to go. You've lived long enough. Saved enough lives. Lost enough, too.
But even if you tried to bury yourself alive, you thought, the dirt would probably recoil saying you have already rotted and that there was nothing left for you to do but to live. To do what your friend told you to do in their last dying breath.
Would you really want that?
"Bee."
You gasp and your eyes fly open, being greeted by the familiar ceiling of your office, clinical white infirmary lights shining down. Your eyes burn at the sight of them and your heart rate picks up, thrumming against your ribcage. You sit up from the bed, gasping for air. There's a shiver running down your spine and you feel nauseous. Everything was happening so quickly from the moment you opened your eyes.
You were still here. You were alive.
There's a lump forming in your throat that makes it even harder to breathe. You want to cry out, but there's no voice, no air in your lungs to do so. You can only wheeze through your lips as tears finally run down your face. They feel hot against your cold skin, they burn. Yet you feel your entire body tremble.
You usually only had that dream on Christmas Eve. It must have been a week since then, so why now? Was your friend coming back to haunt you? To remind that you were still here and alive? To mock you?
A large hand on your shoulder pulls you away from those thoughts. You turn to the side to be met with icy blue, peeking through two holes of a sniper hood. You're confused, disoriented, still trying breathe through hiccups with trembling hands as the man rubs small, careful circles with his thumb, that definitely assure you once again that: you were here. Alive. And that you would have to live with it. It's what your best friend wanted, too. Their last wish on a Christmas Eve.
Your hand shakingly moves to your throat, as if trying to locate the lump in it that's making it hard to breathe. You turn and almost mourn the warmth of the hand leaving your shoulder as König walks out the door in big steps.
Your heart doesn't calm down and neither does your breathing. They're battling against each other to see which could make you either black out or vomit first. You've had panic attacks before, but never so violent. Perhaps it was the amount of caffeine you've been consuming that's finally come back to bite you in the ass. The fact that you had your coworker to witness this moment didn't make it any better.
The door opens again with a creak along with heavy boots, making their way back into the room. König rushes to the bed you're sitting on. You watch with heavy breaths as he hands you a glass of water. You reach out for it with trembling hands and bring it to your lips, to drink as if your life depended on it. König leaves a hand hovering under the glass for support. When you finish with a small gasp, you finally seem to find your breath again. Though your heart was still violently beating against your ribcage.
König carefully takes hold of the glass and holds it while standing back. His eyes don't leave you. They don't avert you this time. You're not sure whether you preferred if they would at the moment.
Your hands are still shaky when you let out a quiet huff. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Your question comes out in a whisper. König doesn't answer. He walks towards your desk and places the glass on it. Your arms wrap around your knees. How comforting it'd be to just curl up and hide in a hole until the next person found you in a couple of days. "Sorry..."
You mean it.
"No, I... I should be apologizing." You hear some clattering on the desk and see the way the man's shoulders tense up. "I didn't mean to pry."
There's a pregnant pause. Within the short time that you've known König, you've learned that he wasn't one much for words. You've also learned that the silence between the two of you didn't have to necessarily be something awkward. It was just there. It didn't have to be filled or addressed.
You aren't shaking as badly anymore.
"Do you think you can eat something?" The man turns his face to the side to look for your reaction before he turns to face you again. A hand moves to the back of his neck. "I originally came because I made too much soup and wondered if you wanted some." He pauses again, like he is looking for the right words to say. You spot a bowl of soup and a spoon behind him on the desk as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "You were asleep, but it looked like you had a nightmare, so I..." He doesn't finish the sentence because you both know the story from there.
You fumble with your fingers. You open your mouth, close it then open it again. "I'd love some soup, actually." König's shoulders visibly relax and he is about to grab the bowl before you push the blankets aside and stand up from the bed. You would have thought your legs would feel more shaky, but they do a surprising good job at holding your weight this time. Not like in your dreams. Blue eyes watch your every move as you finally sit down at your office chair at the desk and reach for the spoon. You can hear a huff escaping from underneath the man's hood.
You glance up at him, which proves itself to be even more of a challenge when you are sitting while he was standing. "You can sit down, you know?" You motion towards the empty chair at the side of your desk with your spoon. "Unless you're busy right now." You know he probably wasn't with how quiet it's been around HQ during the holidays. But you at least wanted to give him the option to leave if he didn't feel comfortable enough to stay.
He doesn't say anything, only a quiet huff when he sits down on the wooden chair that suddenly looks comically small under him. You look back at the soup, the spoon firm in your hand. The bowl feels lukewarm against your hand by now. It's delicious nonetheless, you realize as you put the first spoonful in your mouth.
You smile. "Somehow our encounters so far always involve me being fed by you." König's eyes widen. Part of you wondered how big they could get before they'd pop out of his eye sockets. "Not that I mind, though. Your food is delicious," you add between spoonfuls.
The man fumbles with his fingers, eyes focused back on the floor before he manages to huff our a small "I'm glad."
It's quiet again. It's oddly comforting.
König doesn't ask any questions. He just is here, quietly next to you. You're sure that he doesn't even realize how much you appreciate it.
You finish your bowl and are about to stand up to bring it back to the kitchen.
"Äh..."
Your head turns to König. He is still sitting on the chair, fumbling with his fingers. You wait patiently for him to continue. "It's New Years Eve, so..." A hand moves inside his hoodie as he is looking for something in an inside pocket.
You haven't even realized that it was New Years Eve already. The past few days have been passing in a flurry, same old with you just occasionally leaving your desk for a cup of coffee then going back to reading medical books you've found around the office. Not much longer and the other KorTac members would soon return to base. You had to get your act back up before that happened. You had to be ready to do your job.
The man finally finds what he was looking for and pulls out a long, flat package out of the inside of his hoodie. There was something written on it in a language that you didn't recognize, along with a picture of sparklers next to the font.
"Wunderkerzen," König says. He rubs the back of his neck. "I, uh... Don't know what they're called in English if I'm being honest, but I found them in the storage room and..." His eyes briefly meet yours, before they fall on the little package in his hands. "I wanted to ask whether you would like to light some up outside..."
You barely hear the last part of the sentence. It comes out in a dragged breath, but you still are able to make it out. You couldn't remember the last time you've celebrated a New Years Eve like this.
Your eyes move to the digital clock hanging on the wall. It reads 23:55. You stand up with the empty bowl in your hand. The other hovers over König's arm as you walk in front of him. You're almost on the same eye level as him when he sits down like that, with you slightly looking downwards to meet his gaze. His eyes are big again. It's endearing, you even think for a fleeting moment. "Let's go. Else we'll miss the countdown, right?"
König hesitantly nods before standing up and following you out of the room. You pass by the kitchen where you leave the bowl to rinse out later and make your way outside. You regret not having taken an extra sweater with you, as the cold wind brushes against your skin. The snow is layered thick on the ground, with some smaller snowflakes still falling from the sky.
This time you don't think of the voices in your head or your nightmares.
You glance at your phone. It's one minute before midnight. You turn to König, who already is unpacking two sparklers. He hands you one and you take it, a childish kind of excitement bubbling in your chest. The last time you lit one up probably was when you were a kid.
You look at König. He seems to have frozen in his movement. "Ah." His eyes slowly move to you and blink a few times. "You... don't happen to have a lighter on you, do you?"
You blink back. "I don't think so, no."
"Oh."
Both of you just stare at each other for a while, speechless. You can feel the corners of your mouth twitching as König lets out a sheepish sigh while covering his eyes with a hand and the unlit sparkler in the other.
"I could still go inside and get one, but I might not make it in time," he mumbles.
"König."
"I can't believe I forgot the most essential part..." he mutters something in German under his breath.
"König."
He finally stops his ramble when you tug on the sleeve of his hoodie, showing him the time on your phone. It was midnight.
"Happy new year. And, uh... Thank you for earlier."
It takes him a few seconds to process before you hear a small gasp from underneath his hood. There they were, once again. Big, blue eyes, looking you in the eye. He blinks a few times, before he finally finds his voice again.
"Oh... Well I'm glad you enjoyed the soup. And happy new year to you too! And sorry about the, uh," he motions at the sparklers, "I forgot to take a lighter with me..."
You didn't mean the soup. You lips tug into a flat smile.
The door busts open before you can even reply and König freezes on spot. "Hey, happy new year, you two! Odd combo, by the way, didn't know you got acquainted already." You turn and see Horangi, followed by Zero. They were some of the few operators that also stayed at base over the holidays.
The two step closer. "Bee, right? I didn't know you were also staying at HQ over the holidays." You can hear the smile in Horangi's voice.
Zero chuckles in the background. "Where'd you get those from?" He motions at the sparklers. You watch as König sheepishly tries to explain with the two men listening to him and snickering inbetween while the hooded man fumbles around with the box.
For a second his eyes meet yours and they look like they're almost pleading for assistance. You hear the way he laughs along low and unsure with the other men.
You were nowhere close to giving it a name, not at all, but something, just a little something sparks and twinges inside you that night, even without a lighter.
•••
There are nights in which König can't fall asleep. He would toss and turn in the bed that may or may not be a bit too short for him, until he'd realize that it was just another of those nights. A night in which he'd spend more time thinking than sleeping. And he thinks a lot.
He'd think about the millions of places in the world. He'd think about how every mission he travels across places he'll probably never set foot on and and how on top of that there were millions of people that he'll never meet. He'd think of how funny it was that with all of those possibilities and combinations he could ever feel lonely.
But life's a bitch and loves to rub that shit in.
He does feel lonely. He does feel like he doesn't belong.
He'd think of how he feels like he can't find his place in the nearly infinite number of places he could be.
But tonight isn't one of those nights. Not quite.
He thinks of you, instead. He wonders what you saw in your dreams.