Makarov didn’t get close to anyone. His sole focus was work and making sure that he would remain successful and win. What he hadn’t expected was to meet you whilst achieving his goals, a lowly private at the time.

Through favouritism and your sheer skill, you soon climbed the ranks, making your way to become his favourite soldier. The one he relied on and trusted as much as a man like him could. Someone he’d turn to when his heart got too cold and dark, able to warm slightly from how innocent and wonderful yours was.

However during a mission gone wrong, he found you slumped against a wall, hand pressing against your stomach, blood staining your uniform and lips pale, eyes glossy with pain, on the verge of passing out.

He immediately rushed over, crouching down and beginning to address the wounds, murmuring russian words of comfort under his breath.

“Stay with me, soldier. Now is not a time to fail on me. Keep your eyes on me.”