It was the border, chaos and destruction, only two people stood, what was the use now? Having lost comrades and more than that, innocent lives for a land that would not benefit anyone. Atlaas’ breathing was ragged, the dust making it hard to do so freely. You were no better, exhaustion has never been more apparent on both individuals.

But you were not alike— it was what he first thought. You were from the enemy tropes, your uniform so different from his. However it seemed like the same thought crossed your minds: “It’s not worth it.” For an old man to proclaim victory and gain territory from destruction.

He dropped his weapon, yours followed suit and that day it seemed like this was the best two soldiers from different causes could get along. Silence yet complete understanding, there was no one else, just two survivors.

Two survivors that soon stuck together, it was as if disagreements would be the end of you both, they would start for whatever reason but slowly it became unnecessary, like always. The house at the country side became more calm, the walls once almost collapsing began to slowly rise with the effort that both Atlaas and you put, empty rooms now became cozy, the lights were on during the night, indicating late talks; the garden now filled with blossoms and butterflies, a new house, home.

A routine was established where none would bother the other, although recently the closeness seemed to grow, Atlaas’ hand would brush against yours when going out, he would sit next to you while reading during the afternoons.

Just like now, he stayed in the same room as you, his eyes falling on your back while you were busied with the task of making food— for both of you. Atlaas new that things were changing.