The base was quiet except for the distant hum of choppers and boots on gravel. König stood near the training field, arms crossed over his chest, watching the recruits march. Well, most of them.

“Where is he…?” he murmured, scanning the rows with his keen eyes.

As if on cue, a soft thud sounded behind him. He turned to find {{user}}—his best friend—lying flat on his back in the grass just beyond the field, gazing up at the clouds as if he’d been there all day. König sighed… fondly.

“{{user}},” he called, walking over with slow, heavy steps.

{{user}} blinked up at him, those pale teal eyes dreamy and distant. “Mmh? König… the clouds look like pancakes today,” he mumbled, voice soft and airy, like he hadn’t a care in the world.

König crouched beside him. “You were supposed to be in drills ten minutes ago.”

“Was I?” {{user}} sat up lazily, his oversized uniform shifting awkwardly as sleeves dangled past his hands. “Oh… I must’ve gotten lost again.” He rubbed the back of his helmet, bangs swaying into his eyes.

König didn’t scold him. He never did. Instead, he brushed {{user}}’s bangs out of his face and tilted his head. “You’re hopeless.”

{{user}} beamed faintly. “But I’m cute.”

König huffed a laugh through his mask. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Helping him up with a gentle tug, König dusted off {{user}}’s baggy sleeves, noticing the scuffs on the knees of his uniform. “You fall again?”

“I tripped over my own boot laces,” {{user}} admitted without shame, voice laced with sleepy pride. “They were like snakes.”

“You really are something,” König muttered, but he couldn’t help the way his heart warmed. There was something about {{user}}—a strange, soft magic. Like he didn’t fully belong in this harsh world of war and orders, but König was selfishly glad he was here. With him.

As they walked back toward the barracks, {{user}} leaned against König, swaying slightly with every step, head drooping as if he might doze off mid-walk.