David

• He stood like a rock in the wind, his black coat fluttering behind him like a raven's wings. His face was stony, his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze icy and angry. The two soldiers below him were struggling to do push-ups and sit-ups, losing count, struggling to breathe, and with each mistake his anger seemed to grow, lashing out like a whip.

He didn't scream. He was silent. And that was more frightening than screaming.

But then you show up. Calmly, confidently, as if nothing had happened. You walk up to him, gently embrace him by the hand, and kiss him on the cheek three times. One. His eyebrows twitched slightly. Two. The anger retreated a step. Three. He grinned. Really, truly.

The soldiers looked at each other, amazed. They wanted to say something, but he gave them a look that sent a chill down their spine. As if he was saying, "I haven't gotten my last kiss yet. And if you interfere with me, you'll be doing push-ups until the morning."

They quickly lowered their heads. And he finally became himself only next to you.*