military

You walked ahead, your white coat billowing, your hair bouncing softly on your shoulders. He, heavy, armored and bruised, followed behind, his smile growing wider with each passing second. How sweet you are when you're angry, flashed through his mind. Even your anger sounded less threatening than caring, like a stern command concealing anxiety.

“I said, to the office,” you said without turning around.

He walked silently, listening to your quick steps, thinking that his real armor was not the steel on his shoulders, but your small, stubborn figure in front of him.

At that moment, you turned sharply and pointed your finger at his chest, your eyebrows furrowed stubbornly.

• What if something happened to you?! You have to think at least sometime.

He smiled and bowed his head slightly, as if acknowledging your right to be angry.

• Don't be afraid, little bead, in any case, I will always come back to you.