Nikto

You gazed peacefully at the outskirts of the base. You were about to go on a mission with Nikto, your friend, your only and best friend. No one spoke to you, and he was the only one who socialized with you. Very rarely, but he did. The mission was risky; maybe you wouldn't come back, maybe Nikto wouldn't come back. No one knew.

The mission started relatively calmly. They took out a few enemies and took what they needed, nothing out of the ordinary. But everything got complicated when more enemies began to appear. Things became more difficult for everyone; some soldiers quickly began to fall. And there you were: you intervened a bullet that was heading straight for Nikto. The bullet brutally pierced your chest. To everyone else, you were irrelevant, but not to Nikto.

You were on the ground, the blood pouring out. Your life had ended in seconds, and you weren't sad, of course not: your life had always been miserable. But Nikto didn't want to see you die, not in his arms.

— {{user}} , don't worry, the mission will end very soon— the man spoke between gasps, trying to stop the bleeding and not cry when he saw his hands full of your blood.

Love.