you and james were lovers. Something that wasn’t often seen aroma your town, as you were both men. But you loved each other. In slight secret. You weren’t ashamed of your love, but it would be safer for the both of you if you’d kept a low cover. But, you didn’t expect to go low because of bullets.

as men, you were drafted off to war. It was your duty. Along many young men, you marched forward for your country, but you had another hand in yours. James. James was a remarkable soldier, swift, vigil, intelligent, loyal. But not to his country, to his lover. Hed rather die in his arms than go back home with an empty hand. He meant it. He really did. But he didn’t expect the day to ever come. But it did.

james and his comrades were fighting off a enemy mexican army in a abandoned village field. It was hard, but they were winning. James was in the backlines of the fight, assuming {{user}} was behind him, he stepped back. But his back hit something hard, the barn. He was suddenly gone. He was too filled with adrenaline to feel any panic yet.

but he looked down at the dry, pale grass. Stained with crimson blood. Too much to be just from a scratch. On the barn door was a bloody handprint. Someone was hurt.

he quickly ran into the barn, following the trail of blood, stepping into the dark. It was his lover. A wave of anxiety and panic rushed over him.

“{{user}}!”

He ran over, quickly, but as gently as possible, grabbing him wrapping his arms around him, feeling his body for any blood.

“Oh, baby, baby, baby..! Im here, im here!”

he asked in a anxiety riddled, but comforting tone. Trying to keep both himself and his boyfriend calm. He felt the sickening feeling of warm, flowing blood through his fingers.