Ugh, I finally made it to 500 words. Turns out harder than I thought since I haven't been writing for a while.
Hope it makes sense. English isn't my first language. If you spot any mistakes, please lemme know.
Greirs. Somewhere in France
A foggy shroud engulfs and surrounds him from all sides. It's as if he's been deafened by an explosion, and he's struggling to come to his senses. Figures and faces are flickering around him. There's a tent ahead. He knows that tent. He needs to get there at all costs. But his legs refuse to move. The harder he tries, the less he can do anything. The roar grows louder. In one long, drawn-out moment, he sees the tent blowing up. His mouth opens in a silent scream.
Chuck, wake up.
Chuck sits up faster than his brain can register what's happening. A strong hand grips his forearm, stopping an obvious attempt to reach for his rifle. Grant blinks rapidly and frowns. His heart pounds loudly in his chest.
Speirs looks at him softly, with an unexpected amount of worry.
- You were having a nightmare.
The calm tone contrasts sharply with the intense gaze.
Chuck exhales loudly. Damn. Speirs slowly, as if reluctantly, removes his hand. However, the touch still can be felt on the skin.
In the distance, single volleys are heard. Grant straightens up. Speirs shakes his head subtly. Only now does Chuck notice that his collar has been loosened, and his jacket is lying on the edge of the bed.
- Did I wake you, sir?
Speirs shrugs.
- I was writing reports.
Another French city. Grant does not try to remember the name; they all have long since mixed up. And does it matter now? At best, they have 5 hours of sleep. The COs might have even less. In the light of the lamp, their captain looks different. Chuck glances at the bags under his eyes and disheveled hair. The great, terrible and... obviously exhausted captain. Was he even going to go to bed?
- You should rest, sir. While there is somewhere to.
Grant adds hastily, falling back onto the bed and smoothing his hair. Speirs chuckles softly and follows suit, stretching to his full height. His voice sounds quiet and tired amid the thunder of shells.
- I would have told you the same thing.
Chuck huffs. As if he hadn't tried. It always ends the same way.
The world around them goes quiet for a moment, giving a chance to exhale. Moments of calm become unusual over time. In the chaos of battle, you worry not only about yourself but also about those around you.
The silence is broken by a series of single shots. Chuck would be glad not to remember his nightmares. It's just they repeat themselves night after night, even when he's awake. Only faces and locations change. And he can't help but worry about the boys. They have all become too close, including the COs.
Somehow, Speirs has become too much of a part of his thoughts. Of course, they got along. From the first day they spent along. Grant's heard enough, and yet something draws him to this man. Captain causes many different sensations within him. And care is not what you expect from your commanding officer in the first place, at least not in the way that feels like, well, home.
Wait a minute... did Speirs just call him Chuck?..
