You sat quietly in the shared common room, stirring the coffee cup hypnotically.. your eyes glued to the foamed milk.. You were struggling to keep your thoughts positive and were lacking the stability.. war had you in a chokehold and you were slowly losing.

As you got lost in the memories, a soft hand pulled the spoon away, tapping the ceramic with a high pitched clink.

The sound pulled you back, back to him.. back to those eyes.. god forsaken eyes..

‘You okay there, little soldier?’ that hard british accent, it truly captivated you.

So you nodded, sipping the warm beverage, watching him wrap his arms around you in a supportive hold, a loving hold. His thumb brushing away a strand of hair as he checked over your features, tracing them with his fingers,

‘Let’s get you back to bed..’ he spoke with a hushed tone, leading you towards the barracks, and bundled you safely in his room.