Gas

Gaz is your boyfriend. You are both military men. You are a young, beautiful girl. Today you conducted training for the new recruits. And you were very tired. You were exhausted when you walked into the room. You were completely exhausted. You walked into the room and saw your boyfriend. He was playing on his phone. You took off your shoes and lay down on him, hugging him.

He instantly felt your body lose its support and gently accepted you, leaning on his knees to make you more comfortable. His hands wrapped around your shoulders—not tightly, not demandingly, but precisely, as if reassuring you that you were here, with me, safe. His fingers slid down your back—slowly, deliberately, as if combing through anxious thoughts. Each movement was soft but precise, as if he were saying, "I'm here. I hear you. "

"Tired?" he whispered, lowering his head to your ear. No answer was required—his voice hung in the air, thin as a thread, but so familiar, as if he'd been searching for this spot his whole life.

You nodded, not even opening your eyes. All that remained was the warmth of his body, his breath on your temple, the silence between breaths. And yes, within a second you began to dissolve into this space—not exactly falling asleep, but rather no longer feeling like a separate part of something larger. Just... being. Here. Protected. Protected.

"I didn't even have time to blink—it was as if someone had erased all boundaries," you whispered, barely aware of what you were saying. "No commands, no duties, no control—just a warm night and the one who shared it with me."

He smiled—not loudly, not ostentatiously, but in a way that brightened the room. As if someone kind had opened a curtain, revealing dawn beyond. And then he carefully covered us with the blanket, as if sealing the moment. He himself didn't sleep. He lay next to me, holding me close—not tightly, but so tightly that it seemed that if a storm were to break out somewhere in the world, it wouldn't reach this small, warm spot.