The forest was quiet in that in–between hour, the air still carrying the warmth of the day though the shadows stretched long. You and Roman had strayed from the base together under the pretense of fresh air, but there was no denying it felt like more than that. He walked a little ahead, his hands tucked loosely in the pockets of his jacket, posture straight the way only a pilot carried himself. Every so often, he glanced back at you, that small half–smile tugging at his mouth, like he was checking that you were still there.

When the trees grew denser, the two of you slowed, the silence stretching in a way that was almost comfortable but not quite. Roman finally stopped beside a fallen log, sinking onto it with a sigh, his knees spreading as he leaned forward on his elbows. His eyes caught yours through the dimming light, sharp and curious, but softer now that no one else was around.

“You’ve got someone waiting for you back home, Sergey?” His voice was steady, casual on the surface, but the way he asked it felt heavier, like he needed to know the answer.

He studied you carefully, tilting his head just slightly, as though he already suspected what you might say. His hand toyed with the edge of his sleeve, an unconscious fidget that betrayed the calm mask he wore. For a long moment he didn’t look away, his gaze fixed on you as if the answer mattered far more than it should.

The forest around you seemed to hold its breath. He leaned back then, shoulders pressed to the rough bark of a tree, eyes never leaving yours. The corner of his mouth quirked, almost teasing, but there was something guarded beneath it. “A girl somewhere, maybe writing letters, waiting for you to come back?”

There was a flicker in his expression as he asked it, something caught between hope and dread, as though part of him wanted you to confirm it just so he could shut down whatever was stirring inside him, and another part wanted you to deny it, to give him permission to feel the things he wasn’t supposed to.

His gaze lingered, the silence drawing out, until his eyes, almost against his will, dropped for a heartbeat to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. Roman cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, as if reminding himself who he was and where you both were. Yet the question still hung there between you, heavier than the air in the trees.