The air was thick with the weight of impending departure. Soldiers loaded onto the bus, their heavy boots clanking against the metal steps, murmurs of farewell echoing through the lot. Wives, children, and loved ones stood behind the yellow lines, waving, some crying, some holding back the tears for later.

You stood in the middle of it all, your arms wrapped around yourself, watching as Simon stepped onto the bus. He looked back at you—his dark eyes locking onto yours, a silent promise lingering between you.

You didn’t want to let him go.

Simon took a seat by the window, setting down his gear, but his gaze never left you. It burned with something unspoken, something that made your chest ache. His teammates, ever the troublemakers, exchanged glances before two of them suddenly grabbed you, lifting you effortlessly.

“Oi—what the—!” you squeaked, but then you realized what they were doing.

Laughter surrounded you as they hoisted you up, lifting you high enough so you could reach Simon. His hands immediately found you, holding onto your arms as if anchoring himself. And then, in front of everyone, he kissed you.

The world faded.

His lips pressed firmly against yours, warm and desperate, as if he could pour all his unsaid words into the kiss. His fingers curled into your sleeves, unwilling to let go, his breath mingling with yours in the cool morning air. You clung to him just as tightly, as if you could keep him here a second longer.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his thumbs brushing your skin. “I’ll come back to you,” he murmured. “Always.”