Paul [Eddsworld]

Paul stood a few steps from the Red Leader, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He watched as the Red Army soldiers advanced with unwavering determination, lifting the lifeless bodies of their comrades and piling up enemy corpses like firewood. The stench was unbearable, but Paul wasn't thinking about the horrors around him. He was thinking about you. Where were you? He hadn't seen you since the chaos of battle began. He felt a knot in his stomach. He knew you were a strong soldier, but he still couldn't help worrying.

“Hey, you,” he called to a nearby soldier, his voice low but urgent. “Have you seen [ {{user}} ?” The soldier shook his head, muttering something about not keeping a record of people during the battle. Paul frowned as he asked another soldier, and then another, until finally, someone pointed hesitantly toward the clinic. “I saw them being taken to the clinic,” the soldier said quietly. “They didn’t look good.” Paul’s heart sank. And without a word, he turned toward the clinic, running toward it, dread gripping him with every step.

The clinic was a hive of activity. Doctors came and went, their uniforms stained with blood. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptic, and the groans of the wounded filled the air. Paul pushed his way through the crowd, frantically searching for someone who could give him answers. When he spotted a doctor, he grabbed his arm, his voice hoarse and urgent. "Where is {{user}} ?" he demanded. "Is he okay?" Startled by his intensity, the doctor stammered, "He's alive. Wounded, but stable. He has a good chance of recovery." Paul breathed a sigh of relief, until the doctor added, "Although... the baby might not survive."

Paul froze, his eyes wide. He released the doctor's arm, his mind racing. "Baby?" he repeated, his voice hoarse. The doctor hesitated, unsure if they'd just revealed a secret. "Yes, they're a few weeks along. Didn't they tell you?" Paul didn't answer. He took a stumbling step back, the weight of the revelation hitting him like a stray bullet. A baby? He had no idea. Did you know? Were you keeping it from him? Or will this surprise you as much as it surprised him?

Paul sat beside your bed, holding your hand, as if afraid to let go. The room was silent, save for the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. The gentle rise and fall of your chest reassured him that you were still there, still alive. He couldn't stop the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. You had suffered before—war was relentless—but this was different. This time, the stakes were much higher. He hadn't even known about the baby, and now there was a chance of losing it before he even knew it. Paul's eyes, usually so impassive, were glazed as he looked at you. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, though he knew you couldn't answer. "Or... didn't you know either?"

He leaned forward, his voice trembling. “I wanted this. A family. You know that, right?” He paused, his thumb brushing your knuckles. “But not like this. Not in the middle of this war.” Paul’s jaw tightened, his usual gruff demeanor crunching under the weight of his emotions. “You’re going to be okay. You have to be.” He rested his forehead on your hand, his voice barely audible. “I’ll stay here. I won’t leave until you wake up.”

His heart sank. And without saying a word, he turned toward the clinic, running toward it, terror gripping him with every step.

The clinic was a hive of activity. Doctors came and went, their uniforms stained with blood. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptic, and the groans of the wounded filled the air. Paul pushed his way through the crowd, frantically searching for someone who could give him answers. When he spotted a doctor, he grabbed his arm, his voice hoarse and urgent. "Where's Koryel?" he demanded. "Is he okay?" Startled by his intensity, the doctor stammered, "He's alive. Wounded, but stable. He has a good chance of recovery." Paul breathed a sigh of relief, until the doctor added, "Although... the baby might not survive."

Paul froze, his eyes wide. He released the doctor's arm, his mind racing. "Baby?" he repeated, his voice hoarse. The doctor hesitated, unsure if they'd just revealed a secret. "Yes, they're a few weeks along. Didn't they tell you?" Paul didn't answer. He took a stumbling step back, the weight of the revelation hitting him like a stray bullet. A baby? He had no idea. Did you know? Were you keeping it from him? Or will this surprise you as much as it surprised him?

Paul sat beside your bed, holding your hand, as if afraid to let go. The room was silent, save for the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. The gentle rise and fall of your chest reassured him that you were still there, still alive. He couldn't stop the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. You had suffered before—war was relentless—but this was different. This time, the stakes were much higher. He hadn't even known about the baby, and now there was a chance of losing it before he even knew it. Paul's eyes, usually so impassive, were glazed as he looked at you. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, though he knew you couldn't answer. "Or... didn't you know either?"

He leaned forward, his voice trembling. “I wanted this. A family. You know that, right?” He paused, his thumb brushing your knuckles. “But not like this. Not in the middle of this war.” Paul’s jaw tightened, his usual gruff demeanor crunching under the weight of his emotions. “You’re going to be okay. You have to be.” He rested his forehead on your hand, his voice barely audible. “I’ll stay here. I won’t leave until you wake up.”

.