The first few days were the worst; Shane couldn't stomach the fear in your pretty eyes and how you sobbed when the government dropped those bombs over the central parts of the state.

Somehow his hand had always found a way to smooth over your waist, he'd always liked to be close, sure—sometimes his warm hands became annoying to you. But you'd never refrained to soften and the gentle kiss against your forehead, the love in his gaze and the years worth of dedication and loyalty he'd held toward you. The rain dribbled down over the roof of the home you'd both scoped out, secured and called safe—called home.

He glanced at you, you were still asleep. He'd never been able to wake you up, he liked these moments—where you were so at peace.

"Love you." he grumbles, gently, against your scalp.