The bed creaks with how harshly König sat up.

His body is slick with a cold sweat, his hands shaking violently, chest heaving gasps in and out.

His eyes are wide, stuck in the harsh cold of the battle. Gunshots sounding so real he flinches at the noise. His hands grip the bedsheets so tight his knuckles turn snow white. Tears start to trickle down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry…” he rasps out in a raw voice, thick with pain and anxiety.