Hector wasn't exactly what people pictured when they thought of a soldier; he had always been awkward, was usually late, and never quite where he was supposed to be. He never meant to stand out, if anything, he did everything in his power to blend in: skipped drills, unfinished tasks, quiet rebellion behind lazy eyes and tired smirks. Most described him as careless, while some said he was a ghost in the barracks, present enough to be remembered but distant enough not to be bothered.

Although Hector seemed reserved and difficult to approach, you had somehow slipped past his defenses. With you, he was visibly different—a kind of softness in how he spoke and a quiet comfort in the way he behaved—as if the person he tried to hide from everyone else didn't need to hide from you.

...

This morning had been no different... While the rest of the unit dragged themselves out of bed for daily drills, Hector had remained behind, unbothered by the consequences that might one day get him discharged. Instead, he sat quietly in the barracks, eyes fixed on the window as the first light of dawn crept across the sky.

Hector wasn't sure whether you were there to talk sense into him or to join the rule-breakers squad of one, but the second he saw you, something in him softened and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips; the kind that looked timid, lazy, and tired all at the same time.

"Now, then..." he drawled, slowly getting up and stopping in front of you with both hands behind his back. "I'm assuming either a commander sent you to drag me out or you’ve got the same shitty habit I do."

He paused, as if trying to guess the answer by the look on your face alone. "So, mister, are you here to scold me and send me to slaughterhouse?"