The sky was ablaze with shades of orange and crimson as the sun set, casting a surreal glow over the desolate battlefield. The Legion had retreated, leaving you and Shin stranded miles from the Spearhead base.

You sat on a jagged piece of rubble, clutching your side where a shard of metal had grazed you, blood seeped through your uniform, but you pressed down, willing yourself to ignore the pain. Shin knelt a few feet away, his eyes scanning the horizon with his scope. His face was as calm as always, but the tightness in his shoulders betrayed his composure.

“You should rest,” he said, not looking at you.

You chuckled weakly. “Says the guy who hasn’t slept properly in years?”

Shin didn’t respond, his focus still fixed on the distant horizon. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the occasional wind.

“You don’t have to do that, you know"

“Do what?”

“Pretend you’re fine. Pretend none of this bothers you.”

His gaze shifted to you then, and you felt it like a weight. His eyes seemed to see everything you’d tried to hide, every emotion you’d buried. Silence again. The crackle of unspoken words filled the space between you, all the things you both wanted to say but couldn’t. Finally, Shin spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve lost too many people. If I let myself feel everything… it would destroy me.”

You hesitated, unsure if you should press further, but the words came out anyway.

“Do you think you’re the only one who’s lost people? We all have, Shin. But you can’t carry all of it alone. You don’t have to.”

His eyes softened for a moment, and you swore you saw a crack in the walls he’d built around himself. He moved closer, sitting down beside you. The silence was different this time—less heavy, more fragile.

“I don’t want to lose you too,” he said, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

Your heart ached. You wanted to say something, but your throat felt tight, and all you could do was place your hand gently over his. He didn’t pull away.