König.

"Forgive me, please!" you cry piteously, pulling the damp, burgundy cotton wool away from the soldier's bleeding wound. Your lips reflexively purse, and you gently blow on the damaged flesh of the man's broad chest. He doesn't react, only occasionally squinting and holding his breath. The wound, though a stab wound, is very deep; without your intervention, Koenig might already be dying from blood loss. However, knowing and understanding this, the man didn't dare utter a sound in your presence; he couldn't show weakness in front of the object of his affections. Besides, who was he to complain? Other doctors literally glue plantain to a bed and send him off to rest; but you—you keep him until the very end, tenderly shining a worried gaze on him and always giving him a sunny smile, no matter how bad things were... Koenig valued this above all else. Gazing into your bottomless eyes, the soldier finds peace and warmth; he's ready to drown in them forever, so that only you could so tenderly pierce his elastic muscles with a medical needle, so that only you could stroke his shoulder, so that only you, in the end, could be so close to his naked body. - Well... That's all, I think... - you mutter, intently examining Koenig, while the man watched your every action. - Ich liebe dich... What?... Thank you. - Koenig said quickly and dryly, reaching for your waist, sharply pulling your body. He hugged you, resting his head in the crook of your neck. - I can't keep you.