Title: Waiting For Tomorrow To Arrive (Chapter Two)
Relationship: Medic/Sniper
Okay! So! Quick notes to say before I begin the chapter: 1) The reason why in the beginning part when they’re speaking it’s italicized, is because they’re speaking in German. Not too important but I thought I just wanna point that out 2) The picnic date scene was heavily inspired by @onthefranch‘s wonderful bushmedicine artwork; I so I suggest you check them out, their absolutely great!! 3) Lastly is about the the picnic scene. Like I said, it was inspired by her art that she drew, but as I was writing the scene, I misinterpreted the art; the bird’s wing looked injured, like it was wrapped, so I accidentally added that scene there. After I wrote that, I looked back to it and realized that I was very much wrong and it was a normal healthy bird. But I was too lazy to take it out, so it’s staying. But yeah, I have lot’s of plans for this fic! Will probably be around 5 chapters long–after chapter 3 is when the pure angst will come in (sorry lol) I hope you enjoy!
(Also reposting this because it didn’t show up in the tags? Idk Tumblr is weird)
When Josef woke up, it was quiet. At first he was confused; never has he woken up in silence. He always woke up from his bird, giving loud cries to be let out of its cage to spread its wings, or from his brother, sometimes even his father, yelling at him to get up or he wouldn’t eat any breakfast. But today? It was silent, and the only thing he noticed was the smell of freshly baked pastries. Getting up, he rubbed his eyes, and went for his glasses. He only then noticed and remembered that he wasn’t in his normal house; he was in a hotel in Australia.
He gave a small smile as his mind slowly started to function. God, he couldn’t wait to go out with Mundy again. Sure, it was sad that he was only there for the weekend, but he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the time with Mundy and exploring the Outback with him.
Josef left his small bedroom, and found his mom cooking in the tiny kitchen area of the hotel. Her golden hair was pulled into a tight bun, streaks of grey noticeable in it. She wore a nice, neat white dress, with a gray cardigan to go with it. There were plates of freshly baked apple strudels on the nearby counter, while she cooked breakfast.
“Good morning,” she greeted, moving the food onto plates. “Did you sleep well?”
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