I eyed his gaping wound, lingering on it as blood continued to gush through his fingers. At this rate, he'd probably up end dead soon and it'd be easy enough just to let it happen. But for some reason, I turned towards one of the bodies lying beside me. When I shoved him away earlier, I’d briefly caught a glimpse of an armband with a dulled red cross on him.

I reached over to the body and picked up the arm that covered his chest before moving to the side and reaching into his pocket. I searched around for a moment until a loose object hit my fingers. From the corner of my eyes, I could see that man eyeing me curiously as I pulled out the object. It was a syringe.

There were words printed on a label stuck to it, but the ink had dulled. While I couldn’t read it, I could at least recognise what it was from the times I’d seen medics using them on the other soldiers. After studying it for a few seconds, twisting it around between my fingers, I confirmed it was still unused.

I glanced back at the man before throwing the syringe over to me. Just before it could hit his chest, he caught it with his spare hand, the blood lingering on his fingers staining it immediately. He looked down, eyeing it suspiciously before realising what it was. He turned his head back up and raised an eyebrow at me.

“Morphine?”

“You’ll die less painfully.”

“Well, aren’t you an optimist.”

His expression was still hard when he looked down at the syringe again, hesitating for a moment before finally pushing the cap off with his thumb and letting it fall to the ground. He raised the needle to his arm, hovering it just above it before jabbing it straight through his uniform. His eyes winced again as the substance injected itself into his bloodstream.

After a few seconds, he finally took it out before placing it on the ground. A heavy sigh left him and he leaned his head back against the dirt wall. His eyes had begun to dull even more, the blue in them having lost some of its vibrancy. But his gaze remained on me, searching through my face as if trying to read my inscrutable expression.

“You know, you should’ve used it for yourself.”

“It would’ve been a waste.”

He raised another eyebrow at me, glancing down at the lower half of my body. His eyes lingered there for a moment before he looked back up, his expression becoming more unconvinced.

“You do realise you’re missing your legs, right?”

I gave him a blank stare. It was a little hard not to notice. But regardless, the medics never wasted those sorts of medicines on me before, no matter how lethal the injury. And there was no point starting now.

“I’ll be fine.”

He looked at me incredulously, eyes narrowing and trying to discern whether or not I was being serious. But I gave little thought to his inspection of me and looked away from him, continuing to skim across the surface of the trench. My finger remained hovered over the trigger.

“So you really are an optimist after all.”

I couldn't hold back the heavy sigh that had been building up in me since I'd met this man. This had to be the most words I'd ever said in a single day.

“Must you keep talking?”

He raised an eyebrow at my curtness. “What? You’re not a fan of effervescent witticisms?”

Effervescent—

“Pardon?”

“Sarcasm. I’m referring to sarcasm,” he explained flatly. “Besides, it’s not as though there’s anyone else down here for me to talk to while I’m bleeding out to death. Well, no one alive at least.”

I chose not to respond to that. Continuing to talk to him would be a waste of what little time he clearly had left. I remained focused on surveilling the surface above us, staying alert in case anyone tried to approach. The sky above was starting to darken, smoke hovered over us like a shroud as ash fell like rain.

“Are you trying to ignore me right now?”

I shifted my gaze back down, narrowing my eyes at him. “Are you always this sociable with an enemy soldier?”

“Well, only when I’m stuck with one at the bottom of a ditch. Why? Are you going to put another bullet in me for being too chatty?”

Well since he asked…

My hands tightened around my rifle. I raised it and aimed at his head again, which made his eyes immediately widen as he raised his spare arm.

“God, alright! I get the point! No talking with you then,” he said with a mix of surprise and disbelief. I kept the gun aimed at him for a few more seconds, wondering if I should put a bullet in his head, but I eventually lowered it back down to my lap. He sighed again, appearing exasperated by the situation. “Do you always solve your problems with a gun?”

“When that problem involves other people then yes.”

"Right..."

He looked as though he wanted to say something, probably another remark I assumed. But he kept quiet, giving me one last uncertain look before turning away.

A silence grew between us. The chatter was replaced with the sounds of explosions, sometimes off in the far distance while others came narrowly close with bursts of dirt spraying down into the ditch and onto us.

But amid all that chaos, there were two faint voices not too far away. I was about to raise my rifle again, readying it with my finger over the trigger until I realised they were ones I recognised.

“Sir, there’s a message from the commander!”

The firing continued, almost drowning out that voice. I couldn’t tell if the man in front of me also heard it. It was likely he did—he'd be deaf not to—but he showed no indication that he did. His eyes remained fixed on the ground, staring hollowly as he remained silent.

“What do you mean they surrendered? You’re telling me we fought all these years for nothing?!” another voice yelled through the mix of desperate cries and the thundering hail of bullets rang through the air. “Not even that thing was enough for us to win. Damn those cowards!”

All those sounds became noise, obscuring individual souls into a single indistinguishable mass of pain. It was a noise I'd grown tired of listening to.

I propped my rifle against the wall, the nozzle digging into the dirt. My hands remained around the gun, one on the handle and the other near the top. I leaned my head against it, my eyelids dropping.

“Are you alright?” the man opposite me asked, glancing up at me. I could almost discern a look of concern from him.

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Did having my legs blown off mean I wasn’t ‘alright’? Physically, I’d be fine. Or was it hearing my commander curse me again that made me ‘not alright’? I didn’t know, and frankly, I didn’t care anymore.

“I just want some quiet," I said, saying nothing else before closing my eyes and ignoring the look he gave me. I tried tuning out everything around me, including him. I didn't want to listen to the gunfire, the screams, or curses anymore. It was all too tiring.

“Catch.”

My eyes snapped open when I heard him speak again and just in time to see him throw something over to me. Before it could hit my face, I lifted a hand and caught it. I narrowed my eyes at what seemed to be a small metal case that barely exceeded the size of my palm.

I opened the lid of the container and inside was a lighter. Its golden casing was stained with dust and small scratches here and there, and along the bottom was also the characters 'J.C' engraved. But the next to the lighter was also a pair of earplugs.

“Everyone retreat north!”

“But sir! What about the girl?”

“Leave it! We’ve lost the war, haven’t we? What use do we have for that thing now?”

I ignored those voices as they gradually faded further away and glanced back up at the man, giving him a questioning look.

“What is this?”

“Earplugs. They come in handy during the bombings,” he said, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “I figured it’d be less noisy for you when you die.”

I narrowed my eyes at how blunt he was with his words. I couldn't think of a single reason why he'd do this for a stranger, let alone a soldier from an enemy nation nonetheless.

But I reached for the earplugs anyway. They were small in my hand. I placed one in each of my ears, fitting them tightly inside. All the noises around me seemed to muffle away instantly. While not being silenced completely, they were reduced to something more easily ignorable.

I leaned back against the rifle, my eyes lingering on him one last time. He seemed to struggle to keep his eyes open, his eyelids flickering between being opened and closed. Even through the earplugs, I could hear his breaths becoming more quiet.

There was nothing else to say between us. I didn’t even care if he reached for his gun to shoot me since I doubted he’d even be able to do so. I closed my eyes and forced the world around me to darken.

The ringing was starting to stop, gradually dissolving into nothingness. This battlefield, which had become my entire world, obscured into oblivion. That blissful silence was all I wanted after all those years. I was alone now, left with only a dead man.

But unlike the man in front of me, I knew I wasn’t going to die.

It just wasn't possible.