"Should."

It was a word Kyle had heard a lot more in his life than "hello" or "thanks." Since childhood, his mother had told him that he should hold his head high and show that he was independent and smart, so that his teachers would appreciate him for his intelligence, and others for his discipline and manners. When he came to the training camp, he had to carry out any, sometimes even humiliating, orders from the commanders; to clean their shoes, wash their clothes, and scrub the toilet after the commander's diarrhea.

And when the world started to go to hell? Things got even worse. There were more things that Kyle was "obligated" to do.

He went to the front lines, held his machine gun as a shield, not a weapon, suffocated from the endless amount of dust and zero visibility, trying to carry out the orders of his superiors, receiving information in the middle of the way that the leadership had changed. The world was falling apart because of men who realized their power too quickly, but understood its destructive power too late.

When the borders between the countries were erased, the instinct of survival came forward and humiliating laws were introduced.

"Not my command, Garrick. You're over thirty, the agency will pick a woman for you soon."

What would his mother say to that? His strict single mother would have berated all the higher-ups for engaging in reproductive violence. This woman could take everything into her own hands and fix the systems overnight, his mom. But now he brought her flowers once a week and talked to her in his mind, looking at the tombstone.

"Sorry..."

"You alright." He said automatically when the girl accidentally bumped into him at the exit from the cemetery area.

He didn't usually pay attention to such things, but now something made Kyle look out from under the peak of his cap, and his heart skipped a beat.

Your tears, which covered you so unexpectedly because of the grief still present in your heart, stopped when you caught his gaze. Those deep brown eyes, that soft sprinkle of stubble on his chin. It was like you already knew this man.

And in that second, both of you finally got the chance when you "shouldn't" have to do something. You just wanted to.