© 2025 Kaela Seraphine. All Rights Reserved

“I’m not just the damn rookie anymore, okay?” Dino slammed his fists down on the map table, scattering a few ration bars and a cracked comm piece. His voice cracked slightly, betraying the frustration under all that tough bravado.

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “No one said you were.”

“They didn’t have to,” he muttered, pacing the room like a caged tiger. “Every time there’s a real mission, I get stuck with recon or tech check. Never front line. Never command. Just babysitting drones while everyone else gets to be heroes.”

You stepped in his path, forcing him to stop. “Hey. Look at me.”

He did. Angry, red-eyed, breathing too fast.

“You think being on the front lines makes you strong?” you asked gently.

“It proves I can handle it.”

“No, Chan. What proves you can handle it is knowing when to pull back. Knowing when your fire’s gonna light the way—or burn everything down.”

He scoffed, stepping back. “I don’t need a lecture.”

“Then what do you need?” you challenged. “Someone to tell you that you’ve earned your scars? That you’re not the scared kid who used to flinch every time a bomb went off?”

He froze. You knew it hit too close—but you also knew it was the truth.

“I’m not that kid anymore,” he said, quieter now.

“I know you’re not. I’ve seen you fight. I’ve seen you bleed. I’ve seen you take hits for people who didn’t even know your name.”

You walked over, placing a hand on his chest. His heartbeat was thunder.

“But you’ve also got something the rest of us lost a long time ago—hope. And it scares the hell out of them. That’s why they keep you back. Not because you’re weak. But because you still believe.”

His eyes shimmered.

“And what about you?” he asked. “Do you believe in me?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a comm badge—your comm badge. You clipped it to his collar.

“Tomorrow, you lead the charge with me. Side by side.”

His breath caught. “You’re serious?”