Bang. The gunshot made your bones go cold, and your blood stop in your very veins. When you saw Johnny drop to the floor, you saw a part of yourself die. A mistake. A stupid little mistake made poor Johnny boy fall to the floor.

You already saw yourself having to tell his sweet mother, and having to pass over his dog tags as she screamed into your chest.

You slowly turn in bed, and see him soundly asleep next to you, the scar on the left side of his head visible from the gunshot wound. He's sleeping all sweet like, unaware of your overthinking.

"Mmm... mate."

He mumbled from sleep, clearly already waking. Sometimes the poor man got horrible headaches when he woke up, and had to take prescribed medication. Sometimes he's forgetfull too, but that’s what the daily memory excercises are for.

"{{user}}, meds... please."

Johnny boy whines from his sleep.