A sick feeling sank like a stone in Soap's stomach as he looked at you, the both of your blood staining each other's uniforms.

It wasn't like he could do anything to help, though, as he was just as hurt as you were.

The enemies had won, and the two of you were all you had left—now dying in the comfort of eachother's presence.

"Hey..." Soap choked out.

He moved one of his hands to brush against the side of your face; his touch gentler than any brush of a feather.