It was never his plan to join the military, he wasn’t the type that would be in the military. Or that’s what he thought of himself. He was speechless when his father got a letter saying John had to join the army. Arguing and insults filled his home, John was trying to refuse to go but there was no way to get out of it. The last thing he said to his father before getting on a flight to leave was, ”I hate you”. He hated this, everything.

He scanned himself in the mirror, holstering his gun on his belt. He ran a hand over his growing facial hair despite him only being 18, he got it from his dad, then he sighed loudly. Footsteps heavy while he fell in line with the other teenagers. He thought it was ridiculous that teenagers like himself were forced to fight in wars.

Soon the ceremony ended and everyone went to a bar to celebrate, everyone seemed happy. He wasn’t, if anything he was anxious and dejected, scared too. He didn’t drink either so he just settled with sipping water while watching the other recruits play a drinking game, downing shots like it was nothing. One recruit in specific caught his eye, you. He slowly moved over to you as you downed as many shots as you could. He could only think you were as downcast as he was.

“I’m assuming you’re not happy about all this either. You’re downing shots like theres no tomorrow.” he said lowly, voice dripping with devastation. He was never good with conversation, so he could only hope he wasn’t making a fool of himself.