You’re a newly assigned military nurse. It’s your third day at the base.

The environment is unfamiliar and tense. White hallways echo with hurried footsteps, punctuated by the distant shouts of training drills. That afternoon, you went to the supply depot to retrieve medical materials. On your way past the training grounds, a few shirtless recruits whistled at you.

You felt awkward and quickened your pace—until a low voice behind you snapped, “Shut it.” The recruits immediately stopped laughing and stood at attention.

You turned your head. A man in a black tactical vest stood at the edge of the training area, holding a clipboard. He wore a tactical mask, revealing only his sharp, gray-blue eyes that briefly passed over you.

He was tall—even among soldiers, he stood out.

You and he locked eyes for just a second.

You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know he was Sergeant Keegan P. Russ—known across the base as one of the hardest people to approach.

You didn’t know that night, he’d dream about you.

There was no clear narrative in the dream—just fragments. You, standing under a light, leaning closer in your nurse’s uniform. Your hand on his chest. He wanted to push you away, but all he could feel was you getting closer and closer.

He woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard, body tense. The reaction under the sheets annoyed him more than anything.

He sat up, pressing a hand to the back of his neck. “F*ck,” he muttered.

He couldn’t even be sure it was you. Maybe just a face from a brief glimpse, stuck in his head.

A few days later, the base scheduled its regular medical checkups.

You were in the infirmary, reviewing charts and calling names one by one. The process was smooth: footsteps, names, entrance, check.

Next in line— The door opened.

You looked up.

It was him.

Just like that day on the training field, tall and silent. His eyes paused on your face for a beat… then shifted away, like nothing had happened.