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“I love you,” Thomas exhaled, frustrated. Both of their army uniforms blended in with the surrounding woods, the dark of the night surrounding them from every side. A firewood crackled nearby; a last bet at survival, and subsequently a potential threat to their lives, revealing their position to the world. The white armband and red cross on Thomas’ uniform glistened in the night, reflecting light most amidst shades of black and green.
“You don’t,” Alexander answered tit-for-tat, holding himself more tightly to hide his shivering.
“I wish you did, too,” Thomas retorted, quiet.
“You don’t,” Alexander repeated, sighing. “You don’t love me, you don’t wish I did, you don’t like me at all. You’re stuck with me, and you know I won’t make it through the night. You want me to go out in light,” he said, sardonic. “How much morphine do you have left?”
“One tube,” Thomas said.
“Take it, share in the fun,” Alexander said, laughing at himself. He then coughed, body contorting in pain. His forehead glistened at the firewood, and Thomas knew he was growing an infection.
“Tell me who to write to,” Thomas pleaded. “Family, you must have family.”
“Leave me alone, Thomas,” he sighed. “Let me die. It won’t change anything.”
“Then, let me love you,” Thomas answered. “I want you to die with someone who loves you by your side.”
“What’s the point of that, Thomas?” Alexander said in a complaint. “I’m bitter, I’ll die bitter, because I know I’m dying next to a liar.”
“We were supposed to end it together,” Thomas said, ignoring Alexander’s misanthropic claims. “Everyone’s saying it’s ending soon.”
“For me, it is,” Alexander exhaled, closing his eyes. “I’m surprised I made it that long.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll push through the west, there’s a camp there,” Thomas said. “You could get help. You just need to make it through the night.”
“You’re confident I will, Thomas?” he asked, not opening his eyes.
Thomas pressed his lips together, daring to look down at Alexander’s ragged leg, foot entirely gone from a landmine. “I am,” he lied.
“See? Dying next to a liar,” Alexander exhaled. Thomas pulled out his last tube of morphine, injecting it into Alexander’s neck while the man’s expression bittered, clearly in pain. It softened slightly when the medication took effect, and Thomas sighed with forlorn relief.
“Don’t you have a last wish?” Thomas asked. “A confession? A regret?”
Alexander paused, and after a moment he looked up at Thomas. “I do,” he said, then coughed once more. “I regret not dying on impact.”
“Alexander,” Thomas exhaled, despairing.
“And I regret that you went back to get me,” he continued, voice quiet and strained.
“What else was I supposed to do?” Thomas asked.
“I regret that you’re here to see this,” Alexander said. “And that you’ll have to live with my death thinking you could have done something to help.”
Thomas observed him, finding no way to contest this regret. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to end,” he breathed out, taking Alexander's hand and squeezing it softly.
“It’s exactly how it’s supposed to end,” Alexander whispered. His voice was dimming and Thomas had to lean in closer to decipher his words. “That’s war, Thomas. That’s what…” he took a whistling breath. “...we signed up for.”
Thomas went to sit next to him, against the tree he was resting against. his gaze flattened as he observed Alexander’s deteriorating consciousness. “Stay up, Alexander. Talk to me, tell me… what’s on your mind,” he hazarded.
“I’m in pain,” Alexander mumbled, eyes fluttering open. He stayed quiet for a while, before adding: “...and I’m scared.”
“What are you scared of, Alexander?” Thomas asked, wishing to make him talk, to keep him there for just a little longer.
“I don’t know,” Alexander said. “It’s like this… impending doom,” he whispered, leaning toward Thomas. “Quite fitting,” he added, a faint smile painting on his lips, disappearing just as quickly as it came. He let his head fall against Thomas’ shoulder, heavy and unable to hold it up anymore, and Thomas felt his eyes water.
“Alexander,” he said, looking down at him. “Tell me… a moment when you were happy. A happy memory, tell it to me.”
Alexander stayed quiet for a moment, and Thomas feared for the worst. But Alexander’s voice, now quiet as the distant rustle of the wind, eventually spoke up. “I… ” he started, chest rising and falling with difficulty. “I remember… running home when I was—” his voice halted to let him cough agonizingly, and Thomas wrapped an arm around him, keeping him up. “I had… fought another kid, and I was bruised,” he said. “And my father… scolded me, and I cried,” he settled, those sorrows now distant in their current reality.
“... And it was a happy moment?” Thomas asked at Alexander’s silence.
“My mother…” Alexander continued, lips barely moving to utter his words. “She took me in her arms, and made me pie,” he recounted, and Thomas noticed his hand scarcely managing to close on the fabric on Thomas’ uniform, clinging onto Thomas with his last faint forces. “I wish I had pie,” he murmured, and Thomas knew he was losing him.
“You’ll have lots of pie,” Thomas whispered, voice tight as he batted away the tears in his eyes. “All the pie you want in heaven.”
He waited for Alexander’s answer, waited in the silent night, until he realized it wasn’t coming. Alexander’s body went limp against him, and Thomas wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in Alexander’s hair. He felt the faint rise and fall of Alexander’s back until it ceased to move at all, and he let his tears fall while holding Alexander’s body more closely, eyes tightly closed as he gripped the man’s blood-stained uniform like a lifeline he knew had now slipped from Alexander’s fingers.