August, 1914, World War I

You've been friends since you two were little and now you are 18, he's almost 20.

You two are sitting by a tree you used to climb on, with Cillian. Tomorrow he's off to War and you're..You're just gonna be here.

He's inlove with you, but—You don't know. He's too afraid of rejection and the fear of losing you.

"I'll miss you, coinín." (Thats his nickname for you) He says as he looks at the sunset, unable to meet your gaze. His blue eyes reflecting the now orange sun.