The smell of ash and dampness mingled in the air. Their rapid breathing and coughing, brought on by the dusty atmosphere, didn't stop them from keeping their eyes fixed on each other: a young man with brown skin, and another whose skin was as white as snow.
The brown-skinned one, with trembling hands, was desperately searching for the Epinefrix — a pen-like injector designed to deliver a stimulant in severe cases of unconsciousness. In this desolate moment, with no one else around, he had a clear plan: once he administered the medicine and applied the caffeine patch, he would carry him, despite his own exhaustion, and get them out of there.
His lips moved to pronounce a name he couldn't remember. His ears were ringing with a deafening buzz, and for a moment he thought he'd lost his hearing — until he snapped back to himself and felt the pain again, raw and real.
"Damn it," he muttered in frustration. "Don't close your eyes. Don't close them. We're going to be okay," he repeated.
Even with all the hope he held, it didn't seem to reach the other.
"It's over," the pale-skinned man said quietly.
The young man holding the injector swallowed hard and wiped away his tears with a dusty, stained sleeve, breathing in the metallic scent of his comrade's blood. He lay on the ground, with deep bite wounds on his arm and a bullet wound in his abdomen that wouldn't stop bleeding.Though his face was a blur, the brown-skinned man could see those yellow eyes beginning to dim, losing their brightness. His white-as-snow skin turned ghostly pale. In a desperate move, he plunged the retractable needle into his comrade's leg to ensure a rapid, safe injection. It was his first time using such a device, but somehow it felt as familiar as the man lying in front of him — a man fighting death for just a few more minutes of life.
"No, no, no," he repeated in panic, as if he could hold onto that soul slipping through his fingers like water."I just gave you the shot… I'm going to carry you out of here. We'll make it. I'll get you to the lab and—"
"You should've saved it for yourself," the pale man interrupted with a peaceful smile. "We're surrounded, and you need to escape. The others must be looking for you."
"No! I won't let anyone touch you!"He didn't understand why the idea of someone else touching this man disturbed him so deeply, especially when he couldn't even see his face — his features blurred in his mind, his voice distorted.
"Are you crying? For me?" the blond asked, visibly touched.
The yellow-eyed soldier let out a small chuckle. He tried to move his arms, but they were paralyzed from the bite marks, burns, and cuts. It seemed impossible for him to move on his own.
"Of course I'm crying…!" the brown-skinned man shouted, bewildered. "I'm getting you out. I promise."
"Let me die. Please."
Hearing that made him feel sick — even though there was nothing in his stomach to throw up. He didn't know who this man was. He didn't know his name, his face, or even his uniform. But the pain he felt at those words was undeniable.What lingered in his mind were those once-powerful yellow eyes — sharp eyes of a young soldier — and the suffocating sensation of grief and loss that made it hard to form coherent thoughts.Even if he was a stranger… he couldn't let him go. It wasn't in his nature to abandon others.
"I need you. I don't want to let you go," he begged, softly.
With great effort — and without a grimace of pain — the pale man reached up and touched his face, clumsily but gently, like the warm embrace of a mother's kiss. Except this warmth was different — sad, and final.He hadn't realized just how much he was crying until that touch wiped a tear from his cheek. A striking contrast formed between tear-streaked brown skin and pale, bloodied flesh — mauled, wounded, and burned. And then… the other's arm fell limp like a dead weight.
His nerves must have been destroyed. Things that should've hurt — like lifting his hand — now just felt numb.
"I can't move my legs. And my core is broken. Even if you inject me, I won't be able to get up.But even with my body shattered… the only pain I feel is the shame of not completing my duty. I can't live bedridden with that weight."
A broken core — the vital force concentrated in a specific part of the body — had, since the Andromedan invasion, become the very essence of what defined someone as human.Both young men knew what it meant to have one's core "broken." It was a death sentence.
He knew his comrade's core was powerful — housed in his head, just above the nape of his neck — the very spot where he had taken a critical blow, leading them to this moment.He was the only one who knew this Achilles' heel.
"You won't be bedridden. You'll be fine," the brown-skinned man insisted, trying to believe it himself. "You'll be okay, I promise, just let me inject you again."
"It's not like I can fight you at this point," the other replied, voice softer with every word.
He swallowed his fear and delivered the second injection into one of the soldier's ruined legs — one of which was visibly fractured, the source of his painful limp.Then, he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a scarred chest, and placed a transdermal patch at the center.Lifting him into his arms, he could feel the man's temperature drop steadily.But his breathing — faint against his neck — started to quicken slightly, thanks to the adrenaline.
"I don't care if you fulfilled your duty or not — I order you to stay alive until we reach the end," he demanded, trying to assert control.
He began to run faster through the rubble, dodging stones, corpses, debris. Enemy ships were retreating.He pushed his exhausted body to its limit, not speaking again until he felt the breath at his neck begin to fade.
"Told you it'd be pointless… I'm sorry," murmured the pale man.
He knew how tired the soldier was. So tired he was falling asleep. He closed his yellow eyes — the only feature the brown-skinned man could truly recognize — and from them, a single tear escaped.It was as if the exhaustion was so complete, he no longer had the strength to cry for himself.
As he looked at him, the brown-skinned youth saw those pale lips move to say a name — a name he couldn't quite hear — and again, that strange blur obscured the man's face, leaving only his eyes clear.The whole scene felt bizarrely familiar — asphyxiating, bittersweet, like something he should remember.And yet… he was sure he'd never seen this man before. Never even glimpsed him in passing.Still, his legs wouldn't stop. The path ahead was endless. Panic and terror clawed at his chest.
"Sir… this is the first order I can't obey. Forgive me before I die, I can't bear the thought of passing without knowing you forgave me for failing."
"I forgive you, I forgive you. But please don't leave me. We're almost there. Just hold on a little longer," he pleaded.
He waited —seconds that felt like eternities— but it was already too late.A sudden rainfall mixed with both their tears.
"Thank you, Boss. I can finally rest."
Apparently, all the yellow-eyed soldier ever wanted was peace…But the one who held him couldn't understand that.He just wanted to hear that voice again, feel that touch again, have him by his side again.
And in that stormy twilight, even the clouds wept for the two young men.