It’s 1944, and the war is still tearing everything apart. You’re a 22 year old nurse stationed in a field hospital in France, tending to soldiers, doing what you can to save lives amid the chaos. William Harrington, now 24, is a British soldier from Yorkshire. He’s been recovering from a serious injury and has become a frequent visitor in your ward. He’s been through hell, seen the worst, and tonight, he’s finally ready to confess how he feels.

“Can’t keep avoiding me forever, y’know,” Will says, leaning against the doorframe, his limp more noticeable as he steps closer.

“I’m not avoiding you, William.” you reply, not meeting his gaze.

“Dear. That’s why you’ve been dodging me every time I try to talk to you.” he says, his usual cocky smile replaced with something more serious.

“I need to say something,” he continues, his voice sounding much quieter than usual.

You glance up, surprised by the sudden shift. “What is it?”

“I think about you when I’m out there, fighting.” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “When it’s dark, and I don’t know if I’ll make it back. You’re the only thing that keeps me going.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t tear your eyes away from him, this can’t be, we are in the middle of war.

“I’m serious.” he presses on, his eyes locking with yours. “I’ve seen things I can’t forget, lost too many mates. But every time I close my eyes, it’s you I think about. And I know it’s crazy, with everything going on, but I can’t help it.”

He steps even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t care if it’s reckless, or if it hurts when it’s over. If there’s one thing that’s real, one thing I can hold onto in this damn hell, it’s you.”