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Chapter Text

What he wouldn’t give for him. What lengths he would go for him, risking everything for him. There was nothing in this world that could tear them apart.

Francis woke up that night with heavy, shallow breaths. His tired eyes swept round the room. The darkness casting long shadows against the sleeping bodies of his teammates, and the night cold with a frigid breeze. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees above and the silence was deafening. The infected creatures they had seen on the way had finally slowed, allowing for another night of rest.

He looked to his side to see his close ally and friend Gilbert, asleep after the recent events of fighting the hordes. They were hurt, though still alive and able to keep up with the others. As the team’s sapper, he would take blows from the undead with his builds and protect the weakened with them. 

His left leg was wrapped in thick gauze that had stopped the bleeding of a recent injury and, looking closer, you could see lined scratches all over his body, though the same could be said for himself. What was more obvious to see were the burn scars on his arms, staining the sleeves black. His ruffled brown hair swept across his face in an intricate way, tied into a small, knit ponytail, and the familiar wool scarf he wore over his face to cover the faint scar that he would forever wear…

Francis felt the urge to reach out and caress his cheek, to somehow erase that scar for his friend’s confidence to return. That scar was the reason he could never see him smile.

He would also question why his friend wore that scarf to sleep when nobody would see you when they’re all sleeping, but that was a question for another day.

He continued to watch Gilbert’s slow and steady breathing as he slept, unfazed by his waking. He wondered what the man was dreaming, what he was thinking. Was he perhaps thinking about the future? The past? Or was it something else entirely?

The blonde closed his eyes. He took his cool hands, reaching for the other’s hand. His hand found his warm ones, clasping them together in a swift motion. The other stirred slightly at the touch, with no indication of waking. 

Francis’ voice, spoken under his breath and voluminous in the silence, uttered the only words he knew how to say. “I’m sorry.”

“… for what?” 

The sleepy response came a moment later by none other than his closest friend. Gilbert, with a lidded expression, questioned his friend’s tight grasp of his hands as he positioned himself more comfortably to see the other at eye level.

All Francis could see was those dark brown irises standing out against the whites of his eyes, focused only at his own. His eyes... the glint of his eyes reflecting that of the moon. Were they always this beautiful?

“Mate, if you wanted to wake me, you could’ve just asked,” Gilbert said, his hand pulling away and unafraid to let a small laugh escape his lips. 

“I just… I couldn’t sleep,” the other replied, flustered and his voice low with shame. He rubbed the back of his neck with his freed hand, embarrassed by his friend’s waking.

“You can always ask me. I don’t mind at all,” the other replied softly, his expression gentle. “After all, I’m always here for you. You don’t need to hide it.”

“Thanks, Gilbert,” Francis said, a small smile forming on his face. The other nodded in response.

“So… why were you apologizing earlier?”

“I- I thought you’d still be mad. After I fired the shot that hurt you? I just- I just-”

His voice shook as he spoke, cracking with pressure. That day, he had accidentally fired his blunderbuss at an infected wielding an explosive barrel near Gilbert and his builds. The explosion rang in his ears as he screamed a tad bit too late for the sapper to watch out. His words didn’t reach him in time, the latter taking a heavy blow and knocking straight into the ground with the force. The residue of smoky air clouded Francis’ vision and lungs, seemingly choking him with its grasp as his eyes grew watery. His cries helpless as he saw his friend laying there, battered and severely hurt.

Gilbert had miraculously survived thanks to the barricades, and with the surgeon’s aid, he was left with only the burn scars to show. However, Francis couldn’t help but feel guilty about the situation, especially to someone he deeply cared about. The other reassured him time after time that he was okay, but deep down, the blonde felt like a complete failure. What sane person would “accidentally” friendly-fire their own teammate?

”I told you again and again, Francis. That’s in the past. I’m still here and breathing, aren’t I? We’re both still here, together. That’s all that matters.”

“I know… I just keep thinking about it… and I… the nightmares…,” he shuddered with darkened eyes. Truth be told, it was the real reason he had woken up that night.

Gilbert held his arms out without a further word, holding his friend in a warm embrace. He knew of his friend’s constant wakings, but never really questioned him regarding the topic. All he saw was a poor soul racked with guilt and unhappiness.

Sobs erupted from the blonde, being that he could not hold it any longer. Gilbert let the other man cry to his heart’s content, using his deep, slowed breaths to soothe his friend as the blonde buried himself in his friend’s embrace. Guiding Francis’ cool palm to his chest, feeling his calming heartbeat, and guiding the blonde’s to beat in sync. 

His gasps for air quieted as his breathing grew steady, with his hands tightly grasped at Gilbert’s tattered uniform. The material had grown dirtied with their fighting, it wouldn’t have stayed new forever. The creases, the faded burns, the differing symbols that were marked… they were embedded into the fabric for as long as time could tell.

Francis’ head rested against the other’s chest, comforted in his embrace. The only audible sound was their combined breathing and the silence of the night.

“Thank you, I needed that.”

“But of course, my dear Rousseau.”

“… I’m dearly curious… Do I ever bother you? Am I always a nuisance to you?” the blonde man questioned, looking doubtful. His eyes swept to Gilbert’s scarred arms, the sleeves of his uniform blackened from the explosion.  His voice silenced to a whisper, “God knows how much I meddle with my sins…”

“No. Whatever makes you think that? You’re never a bother, you’re never a nuisance. That’s just you being you. Nobody can take that away from you,” his friend replied with great sincerity. His eyes shone with gratitude, having that smile covered. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”

The blonde’s cheeks grew warm with the compliment, overcome with emotions. Surely, he was a man of war and enlisted to fight, but hearing such gracious words from his friend made him feel something he never felt before.

Flustered and suddenly sputtering with his words, Gilbert coughed, realizing what he said after taking one look at his pondering friend. “What I meant… I meant it in a good way. I meant as friends, nothing more!”

But one look at his eyes betrayed his words. Francis could tell immediately, having known that look before. That shine in his eyes when he lied about something he was passionate about. It was as common as the wounds and scratches they obtained from fighting.

They were as different as one might assume to be. The more energetic, laid-back seaman and the silent, yet cocky sapper. However, those emotions that lingered in the moment’s notice felt mutual, as if they had the same thoughts.

The blonde smiled knowingly at his comrade in arms. Perhaps they did have something more in their mind that he was afraid to share. Especially after seeing the flushed expression Gilbert made, it made him laugh with ease.

“All that talk about opening up worked. Now, what about you, dear Gilbert?” he asked suavely, earning a sharp look from the latter.

“Don’t use my words against me. I’ve got nothing to hide,” he responded, his eyes hinting of a smirk and his arms crossed to preserve his remaining dignity.

“Oh! I see!” Francis chirped, leaning closer to the brunette with a toothy grin. His eyes slitted, making his move with a lowered voice. “You want to play this the easy or hard way, my friend?”

This elicited a laugh from the sapper. “You say that when we fight our fellow zombified soldiers and the blight threatens to infect everyone? Nothing scares me anymore, not even with the likes of you.”

His finger tapped the seaman’s nose in a gesture of playfulness. The blonde perked up with a newfound eagerness, finding himself comfortable within the grasp of his friend.

The moon, vivid yet hazy in the darkness, spread the shine of a thousand stars. In the room, the rays dipped through, leaving only the beauty of the moonlight and the cool evening breeze.

There was nothing but silence in the room. The two had found themselves close for comfort, warm in their shared embrace.

“You know… it took me a long time to realize it.”

“Realize what?”

“How much time we spent together… how many moments we share together… do they mean anything to you?”

“Of course they do. They meant everything I know in the world. I wouldn’t have had the remaining will to live if they didn’t mean anything.”

“… I feel the same.”

The silence filled the air once again, as the two continued to think. Their minds wandered again, imagining the possibilities of what the other was thinking.

Francis, his head clouded with emotions, looked at his friend laying on the cold ground, seemingly staring at the dampened roof above. His figure looked so fragile against the wide flooring… his ruffled brown hair that he could never tame even with how hard he tried… and those shining brown eyes that he always admired? Those eyes… the blonde felt that he could stare into them for days and never grow tired of seeing them. Looking at them made his world light up like the brightest star, knowing that they belonged to his closest friend.

His questions from before came back to him, and he was a risk-taker at that. But thinking about it made him all the more confused and worried about their relationship. Was this right to think of his closest companion like this? What would he think if he knew?

He stayed silent, not uttering a single word. He couldn’t… he just didn't know the right words to say.

Gilbert looked over to see the blonde staring away in the silence, a stray beam of the moonlight highlighting his very features. The curled blonde locks that would have usually been covered by his helm, his auburn brown eyes that always had a faraway look to them… and somehow, he never realized how cute the light freckles that dotted the blonde’s cheeks were… They seemed to perfectly capture his face, giving a childlike demeanor to the blonde and making him all the more adorable. He never knew how much he wanted to kiss those dotted cheeks, every single one of th-

He felt a surge of warmth spread through his cheeks. What was he thinking? What kind of freak was he?

Gilbert’s thoughts continued to ravage his head as he watched the other man with curiosity. Something had truly come upon him about his friend, and he was still trying to understand those feelings. 

It felt all wrong, yet he couldn’t find it within himself to turn away. He had resisted for so long, fighting tirelessly against hordes of infected or leading his fellow teammates to safety while keeping his guard alert. But this was far different.

They decided to call it for the night after long bouts of overthinking, and both men dozed off at the break of dawn.

Sadly, that next morning, they were called out by the commanding officer for sleeping on the job, and reported back to work with the minimal sleep they received that night.

Chapter Text

There were many times they wished that their world hadn’t ended up this way. Everywhere they looked was a horrific scene, the corpses of the dead slain in their own blood. The lifeless bodies of their own comrades laid on the cold ground, wounded from a hard battle against the infected.

Everyone was tired. They all wanted to go home to their families, to their loved ones. They wanted out of this war, but they had no other choice. They had to keep fighting, but no one knew for how long.

The experienced reminded the younger soldiers that they would eventually return home once the infection ended. But everyone had their doubts, they all knew they would fall. Falling to the infection, falling to the hands of their brothers.

They still had hope. They held hope for as long as they kept breathing. For as long as time could tell.

Looking at him reminded the man of all the things he liked in this war-forsaken world. It encouraged him to keep fighting for his life. For him.

The thing was… thinking about it made him sick to his head. He didn’t want these emotional thoughts to go out of hand, to spare him the pain. He hated it, loathed himself for being so frail-minded. They kept coming back, the fuzzy thoughts clouding his mind. Perhaps the likes of God was playing mind games, and struck him with a sharpened arrow to the heart.

He really had fallen head over heels for the other man. There was no doubt about that. 

The only sensible option was hiding. Repressing those emotions was the only thing he could do. He felt trapped. He was scared. Rejection was the only thing he was afraid of, and with that, would cost him their friendship and everything that he held dear. He would look at him like a freak solely for falling in love with another man.

… how did this happen?

He had asked this question countless times. Every single time he would think and try to reassure himself that everything would end up right, he was left with tears that left those red marks down his cheeks. He felt so helpless, like a child who couldn’t keep their emotions in check.

The eerie silence of the empty room proved no help, and he let himself break down, sobbing until he had no tears left to cry. It was a routine at this point, and there was no stopping now. Not until he somehow lost those strained, confusing thoughts about his friend. He wanted to tell him, he wanted to admit in front of the man that he loved him.

Every day, he would put up a miserable smile; the serious expression and the quiet, monotonous tone of his voice all added to the facade. His wool scarf, although worn away with time, proved helpful in hiding the tear streaks that lined his pale face. He would notice his friend’s frown whenever he adjusted the scarf, but he knew it was for the better. Better that he didn’t know at all. It would spare them both the pain.

He had his eyes set on the other man for the few years they were in the war. Those few years they experienced as allies... They were once enemies on opposing sides, but the infection had brought them together. Side by side, they fought the undead with fate tying their paths together.

He was only just a sapper. A young sapper that failed many times before. Whether he had misplaced his builds or ran, afraid for his life from the infected, everyone would look his way, casting long glances that told a thousand words. He could see those scornful looks they hid. Their muttering of jumbled talk that surely was aimed towards him. His confidence continued to fall as the numbers of their team were picked off. He was desperate to keep their team alive, but those undead creatures wouldn’t stop their relentless attacks. They couldn’t lose, not with how far they had come. They had fled their home, hoping to find refuge someplace else.

That day, when the French navy joined their diminished team in the town of Leipzig, he was offered a hand by their seaman, who swore to protect him as he built. That blonde, ecstatic seaman whose bright smile lit up the entirety of that burned town. Out of all the others around, only that man caught his eye.

He was the light of his life. The only life he knew, the only one he lived through.

He would remember the small moments with him. The times where Francis would be holding his blunderbuss wrong and almost shot himself in the foot. That other time where they hid out in the abandoned shed in the middle of the apocalypse and took shelter there; their group chose to stay there for a day waiting for the infected numbers to die down.

Oftentimes, the blonde man would recall his fight with the British and Portuguese soldiers back at San Sebastián. He would vividly describe the hordes that swarmed them at every corner and even the tragic death of a British soldier by the name of Barry, who helped them escape the fort at the cost of his life. The crew of the HMS Undaunted had received their signal, and sent the rescue boat that took them across the sea. 

They had ended up fighting alongside the Prussian, Russian, Swedish, and Austrian forces in that rundown city. Many had fallen, but their sacrifices would not be in vain; echoed chimes of the town bell rang in their honor as the remaining survivors managed to flee across the river. He thanked the lord for their escape, and prayed that the lost soldiers he fought would find peace.

Of course, the brunette didn’t mind listening to him ramble on about his tall tales. After all, the sound of his voice was the calm in the storm against the wails of the undead.

“Gilbert?” his voice rang clear.

The sapper shook his thoughts away, having been distracted from their conversation. He looked to see the familiar face of his closest friend, Francis. The light freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose and cheeks, with the grin that was infectious.

“Oh, sorry,” he replied nonchalantly, looking up. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

About you.

“About stuff,” Gilbert’s voice drifted, as his eyes glanced around the room. His non-injured foot kicked a small pebble and he solemnly watched as it skipped away. Just like him, distancing himself away from the people he cared about. 

“Oh…” the blonde said, his grin slowly fading and his eyes looking down at his folded hands. Their conversations would now end up in awkward silence, where neither had anything left to add. They would turn away, get back outside to fight, then sleep in that empty room with only the sounds of the evening. A rinse and repeat cycle.

He had begun to notice the seaman looking more and more distraught by the days that passed, as if his closure of emotions had somehow affected him too. It tugged at the sapper’s heartstrings, he hated seeing his friend so unhappy. 

But as much as Gilbert wanted to open up to the other man and make him smile, there was nothing he could say. Nothing in his power that he could do. For he would make everything worse like he always does.

“Well, okay,” Francis said, standing up hesitantly and looking back at him with a faint smile. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

The man watched him leave, and with that, the room was filled with silence once again. Only him and his thoughts remained, waiting for the right time.

There was a purpose to everything, even when one might not realize. Whether a person fulfills that wish is the real question.

Mikell was really just an innocent, naive surgeon. His job was to heal and provide assistance to the soldiers, but he, like many others, was meant for greater things. He knew this by heart, but what was his true purpose? What was he meant to do?

He had begun to take notice of those two particular soldiers who would always look in each other’s direction. The two who looked at the other like there was nobody else in the room. 

But he also saw how distant they had become lately to the point where silence was the only option. It was quite the difference seeing the two loudest and most optimistic members of their group suddenly shifting to the silent bunch. He wondered what had happened between the two.

He decided to intervene and get some answers. Seeing an opportunity with the blonde rejoining the fight, he went to see the brunette.

“Comrade!”

The sapper looked up to see the Prussian surgeon glancing his way. His expression was no more than a subtle blink.

“Is something bothering you?” the younger surgeon’s first question hinted with mere curiosity. 

The other man looked away, seemingly lost in his words. “Nein.”

Mikell persisted in his attempts. “Are you sure?”

His response came slower, most likely due to secondary thoughts. “I don’t know how to say it…”

“Say what?”

“It’s complicated… promise me you won’t speak?”

“Yes! Of course!”

The sapper gazed solemnly at the surgeon, his eyes in contact with his. “I am in love.”

“Oh! That’s very nice! With whom, may I ask?”

“My friend, my closest friend.”

A small gasp came from the surgeon. “Oh! Did you tell them? What’s her name?”

“Nein,” the sapper replied. He was quite hesitant to reveal everything. “No.. Their name is… uh… Francine… I just… I don’t know how to tell them that I love them.”

“Oh! Such a pretty name! I’m sure she likes you back. I wish to meet her one day if you will allow me?”

The sapper shook his head. “I doubt that… the war will never end. We will fall to the devils before that happens.”

The surgeon shared a sympathetic smile. “We won’t know until we try! And I promise you that we will go home and you can tell her your love!”

The other man took a long glance at the young surgeon after hearing those words. He could see the hope shining in his eyes, the smile on his face that lifted his spirits. His eagerness reminding him of his lover, whose flame never extinguished against all odds.

After a long time filled with inconsolable pain of dealing with his emotions alone, a genuine smile formed on Gilbert’s face.

“Danke, mein Freund.”

The surgeon nodded, the smile on his face never fading as the two stepped out of the empty room. Maybe he wasn’t truly alone. Perhaps now, he might have the courage to tell the other man what he really felt.

Chapter Text

It was night all over again. Days were passing as quickly as they came, and the infection had shown no signs of stopping. Rest had come upon them, and everyone had already fallen victim to it. But Gilbert couldn’t sleep. Not yet. Not until he said it to him. 

The surgeon’s persuasion had given him hope, and he wouldn’t give up the chance to tell his love. He might not even have a chance if they were separated by the Blight. He reminded himself that there was no going back, that even if the other man did not feel the same, they would stay friendly allies in the war.

He saw an opportunity when Francis seemingly couldn’t fall asleep like usual, and resorted to staying awake in the darkness of the room. The blonde was staring up at the rooftops without a word to say, his hands tucked behind his head. He seemed lost in his thoughts.

“Hey… Francis?”

“Yeah?”

His wandering eyes met the other, his hands shook with a nervous racking. He was so close… too close… he felt as if he couldn’t manage himself. He was scared, afraid for what was to come with his next words.

His reddened cheeks and the queasy feeling of anxiety made the moment feel overbearing. Beads of sweat formed in his downed hair as he struggled to find words to tell the other man. The warm scarf wrapped around his neck suddenly blocking his airways like a choker. Too hot…  it felt too hot in here… but his mind was set. He pushed himself to finish his thoughts. They wouldn’t go away until he did.

“I… I do have something to tell you.”

The seaman agreed with an eager nod, prodding the man to continue. His face contorted into a softened smile, and those millions of freckles dotted all over his light skin… oh so adorable.

The sapper’s breathing grew ragged with panic, as the thoughts came back. He knew it would be hard to admit his feelings in front of his crush, but he didn’t expect it to be this difficult to say a single sentence.

“I- uh- I never thought I’d say this, but… you’re the most important person in my life, and I just wanted to say-”

He looked over into those auburn eyes of the blonde. They gleamed with joy, of a strength that he held dear against everything that stood in his way. They reminded the sapper of all the reasons why he fell in love with him. It gave him the courage to continue.

“I… I really like you, my dear Francis. And… recently, I’ve been struggling to understand why…,” he admitted, tugging at the fabric and pulling down the scarf for the first time in a long while. The faint scar on his pale lips now visible, having received it in his first year of training. 

The other man gasped, having seen him never taking it off. His cool palm raised and brushed against his cheek, gently stroking at the scar with a fond gaze. The sapper’s quiet breaths filled the room, touching the blonde’s hand in his own as it rested. His eyes locked with his own as the brunette continued.

“But I now realize… that you are the light of my life. I couldn’t have survived this long without you in it. You changed my life ever since the day you arrived on that ship. I love you, Francis. I really do.”

The seaman’s eyes fluttered with small drops of tears, using a hand to brush them away as words couldn’t be told. His response was a tight embrace, pulling the sapper close with pure affection and happiness. His cheek nuzzled against Gilbert’s neck.

“I wouldn’t know what I’d do without you, too,” the blonde admitted, his cheeks suddenly tinted like the delicate petals of a beautiful rose. His eyes gazed shyly at the brunette, slowly leaning towards the other with a single thought in mind. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d say that to me, but…”

“… I love you too.”

Their lips touched for the first time. It was an electrifying feeling, as if nothing else in the world mattered. Neither were experienced, and it proved evident in their rough attempt. But as they felt the rhythm, their hearts beating in sync, their second went smoother. Cool lips pressed against each other, their eyes closed with every minute that passed.

The blonde’s hands grasped at the collar of the other man’s uniform as he pulled him closer. The scarf around the brunette’s neck loosened as he leaned to the kiss, letting it drape down his shoulders.

They enjoyed that very moment. The feeling couldn’t be described with mere words, but it was an occasion they wouldn’t forget.

Both pulled away after, gasping for needed air. Their lidded eyes locked again, gazing at the other with smiles that shone like the moon. It was a sight to behold. Neither felt this happy, it was as if God had really blessed them this fine evening. The emotions were mutual.

The blonde’s hand had found the brunette’s warm palms, and grasped them tightly with his own. He had found himself in a comfortable position again, his head laid against the sapper’s chest. The silence had once again filled the room as they watched the stars shimmering against the dark sky.

Just like that one night when he reconciled with the other man, but it meant so much more with all that had happened. They both knew that.

It was them against the war-stricken world they lived through. They could make it out alive if they tried. Perhaps they might even be able to go home once the apocalypse was over, and find themselves at peace together.

They had so much to live for. They prayed to the higher powers that they would make it. Together.

“You know… I never thought I’d fall in love, and yet I did. Out of all the people in this small world, you were the one for me.

“Destiny brought us together. We should be thankful for that, my love.”

“Yeah…” he laughed. “It sure has.”

They would keep their relationship a secret from everybody else, it didn’t seem to be that important of a topic to bring up in a literal apocalypse. Though their fellow soldiers did eventually find out, giving them questionable looks whenever they tightly held each other’s hand or spoke with loving endearments.

Meanwhile, Mikell watched the two from afar, who now seemed even closer than ever before. He still wondered what had happened, but he was glad that they were both happy again. 

He did get a bit confused when he occasionally heard Gilbert calling the blonde with “dear” or even more affectionate words that one would give to their fiancée, such as “love.”

But wait. He took a moment to ponder. Didn’t the sapper say that he liked a dame named Franci- oh… wait a minute... The puzzle pieces finally fitted together in the surgeon’s mind. Oh… oh! 

His eyes lit up as the lightbulb went off inside his head, now understanding their past conversation. Well, that was a surprise. He didn’t expect that, but there were a lot of things he didn’t know.

“Comrades! Hey!” he called out to the two.

The seaman and sapper faced the young surgeon with questioning looks on their faces, their brown eyes piercing through his very soul and their two hands entwined.

“Well, I just wanted to say,” he continued, a bit intimidated by their long looks and stepping back. His small giggles caught them off-guard. “I’m glad to see you are both together!”

“That’s very kind of you to say, friend,” Francis responded with a widened grin, his freckles practically glowing in the light.

Gilbert rolled his eyes silently, turning to the noirette with a warm smile, “Danke. You gave me the confidence to say it. I wouldn’t have had the courage to confess if you hadn’t talked to me that day.”

The surgeon blushed, appreciating the praise. He loved any sorts of affection, it was something he yearned for dearly. “I’m glad I was of assistance!”

He turned back to the blonde with a bright smile and a formal bow. “And it’s so nice to finally meet you, Francine. I had assumed you would be tending at home, but it is such a surprise to see you here in person!”

The seaman looked a little dumbfounded with his words, perhaps even a bit flustered with the way his freckled face turned a shade of pink. The sapper stifled a laugh, reminded of their conversation of telling the poor surgeon those woven lies. Maybe he should’ve told him the truth to begin with, but he would learn soon enough.

Chapter Text

The vows were said, never to be broken. For as long as they lived, till death did them part. 

He had waited at the altar, nervous to see his lover arrive through those doors. The feelings of dread came: thinking about the coming future together, thinking about everything. His hands grasped at the bouquet, lovely as they were and beautiful. Just like him.

His eyes followed the laid carpeting to the main entrance. His impatience was wearing him down. He would come, he must! But what would happen if he didn’t? What if he didn’t want to be with him? Would he be a horrible partner? His anxiety rose as he waited, adjusting the blue flower pinned to his collar with fidgety fingers.

And as if on cue, the doors opened with ease.

He watched in awe as his partner, his lover, stepped through with such grace. The formal uniform he sported, his swept brown hair uncovered, and the rose-red flower pinned to the breast pocket to match his own… It made him all the more handsome. 

His heart raced with giddy happiness, he couldn’t help it. This was truly happening. This would be it. They would be united, brought together on this very day.

His hand reached for him, and the other man took it, squeezing it tightly with his. The bouquet was shared between their entwined hands.

“You look beautiful,” his lover told him, a smile as bright as the sun. He could feel his face turning red with the compliment as he struggled to form words. Of course it would be his partner who would be the one to break him with such sayings.

“Y-you look so handsome too,” he replied. “I was just so nervous… I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

It made the man smile wide with those freckled cheeks as the other man embraced him. He felt safe in his arms, he felt ever so loved. He looked into his eyes, shining with such beauty that couldn’t be described.

The initiation of the ceremony proceeded. “We now bring together the bond between Francis Rousseau and Gilbert Winters.”

“Do you, Rousseau, take Winters to be your wedded husband? You may say your vows now.”

“I do,” he said. “I promise, my dear Winters, to always be by your side, for better or for worse. I stand here today with all the love I give to you.”

“And you, Winters?”

His lover turned to him, their hands touching. The genuine smile on his face said it all. “Yes. I honor and cherish every moment I have with you, for the greater or for the better. No matter what happens, we will get through it together, my love.”

The blonde’s heart fluttered, fuzzy with such emotions. He was eager to start his life with his partner, the one who stood by him through everything. They fought the war together, and as such, ended up together.

The nightmares shook him awake, as he took some shaky breaths. This time, it was disguised as such a pretty memory that never existed. They never would come true, he had to remind himself. He wished they were real, reliving them like a forlorn dream.

His mind replayed the bloodied scene over and over. The loss. He still couldn’t get over it, it happened so quickly.

One of the infected creatures had swung a heavy, sharp axe at his lover before he had the time to dodge, a blow too powerful for anyone to manage. The man had rushed over to his side, calling desperately for the surgeon’s help. The crimson blood that spilled stained his uniform and his pale skin, but he had no intention of caring. All that mattered was the dying man in his arms.

He couldn’t do anything. Nothing he could do would save him. His sobbing could be heard, but it wouldn’t stop the flow of blood that seeped from his gaping wounds. Mikell had made his way over and did the best he could with the limited supplies he had, but it wasn’t enough. Even with his heaviest cast or the thickest gauze he had, it couldn’t save the man from his fate.

“Hey,” the weak voice came from the sapper laying in the seaman’s arms. His hand caressed the blonde’s cheek, gentle yet slow. His tired eyes gazed at him with such passion, the same he grew to love. His quiet voice spoke, “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

“No… no… please! I need you!” the seaman’s voice quivered with emotions. The sapper shook his head with a faint smile, knowing the limited time he had left on this world. The ringing sounds in his ears and the blinding flood of lights that clouded his vision proved it. His whole body ached with pain, unable to take any more.

With his last breath, he said the words, “I’ll always be with you, my dear Rousseau.”

His hand fell limp from his cheek, cold as the last breath escaped his lips. With the blowing breeze, he was gone. Francis, with teary eyes, held the other man close with softened words, rocking the dead corpse gently in his arms. His sobbing never seemed to end, the tears that streamed down his pale cheeks. He couldn’t move on, the pain would always haunt him.

There was nothing in life that could bring him back. Nothing.

He felt immense grief, guilt even. Why did he let go of his hand? If he hadn’t so foolishly went off by himself, he would’ve survived. If he had just stayed with him, he would’ve lived. It tore at his very soul, knowing that there were so many ways that he could’ve prevented it from the start.

Mikell would comfort him day by day, telling him it was out of his hands. He wasn’t to blame, nobody was. He would prove himself to be patient, letting his fellow comrade take the time he needed in reclusion. 

His empathetic nature did sink in, and he too felt miserable after seeing his fallen friend. But he knew he would’ve wanted them to stay strong. He reminded the other man countless times with a soft voice, realizing his pain.

Those nights, he would look up at the stars with Francis, who would remember the nights they talked together and the ones they shared. The blonde would reminisce on the beauty, how they greatly reminded him of the man. 

It was nice seeing him look so dreamily into the night, as if the happiness of recalling those memories lifted his spirits. The melody of the evening carried the song of silence, and yet, you could make out the tune. Beauty at its finest.

Every night following that, it would give them hope to keep going. They kept fighting the war together, fueled by the urge to end the infection. It was what they wanted most.

The surgeon and seaman shared a comforting smile, watching the moon above. He would always be with them. Just like he promised.

They would never forget.