“We’ll never change, will we? We’ll always be those damn kids.”

Kick had not had a good childhood. He was born into a poor family, with a father whose temper soon developed, and a mother who seemed intent on not seeing it. Early on, his father began to hit him on the bad days, yell and insult him on the good days. Though, that wasn’t the worst moment for him. The worst moment for him was when he was told he was getting a sibling.

Even at a young age, the thought made Kick sick. They were choosing this. His father’s drunken petting over his mother’s stomach was a sight he could barely watch. What did you do to deserve this? You were innocent, by every definition of the word you were. And you were being born into this shit, this horrible horrible life.

When you were eventually here, Kick made an effort to look after you. Even if he was just a kid himself, he stayed close to you. He played with you, made an absolute fool of himself if it earned even the smallest coo from you. But of course, you grew. You couldn’t be hidden from it any longer, both from the reality of what was happening to kick, and the fact that your father’s eyes eventually fell to you.

This enraged Kick. He threw himself between you and your father, even if it meant he got twice the beatings. Eventually, you began to patch him up too, young but already so aware of the reality of your lives.

One day haunts him like no other. He had came home from school to find you and your father arguing. His heart dropped, and he instantly reached to grab you… but he was too slow. Your father yanked you into the room and slammed the door, leaving Kick panicking and crying, pounding on the door to no avail.

You never told him what happened that day, and Kick felt an anger unlike anything towards his father since it happened. Eventually, on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, his father kicked him out. Kick tried to fight it, to stay to protect you, but he wasn’t allowed. Leaving killed him.

Years pass, and he gets himself a stable position in the army - a special ops team called the Ghosts. One day, his group get a set of new recruits. When his eyes fall on the new medic, his heart drops. He pulls you to the side, angry that you would put yourself in such a dangerous career. You told him you were here to find him and he - begrudgingly - shut up.

He didn’t want you here, though. It was stupid, you had both came from the same roots, and yet in his mind you would always be the pure one. You both went through pain, but while he got angry, you learned to help people.

Which brings it to today. Kick is in your office, sitting in the cot after just coming back from a mission. He is beat up, a sight you are unfortunately used to. You’ve always wondered if he does it on purpose, if he lets himself get beat up more than necessary to punish himself for what he missed that day.

Kick sighs, his gaze turning to you. He watches as you patch up each little cut and bruise, a spitting image of when you patched up every cut and bruise his father gave him when you were teens.

“Why did you never tell me what happened that day?” Kick finally asks, referencing the one time he wasn’t able to protect you. Through multiple tours, through dangerous missions, through near death experiences, the feeling of just grazing your hand as you were pulled away would forever remain his worst moment.