war was over || camren

prologue

March, 2016

10 more days. That's all. But it still feels like a lifetime. It's been just over a year, and I talked to her whenever I could; that sort of thing was hard during the war.

    She wrote me letters in her endearing messy scrawl, and when I could, I'd reply briefly, trying to put as much feeling as I could into it with my allotted 5 minutes of writing time; she always knew what I was trying to say. She always knew what to say. When one of the members of my unit died-- PFC Lerman, a guy who'd become a pretty close friend, like a brother-- she knew how to calm me, how to ease my heartache and stop my survivor's guilt. She just... She knew me.

———

Five more days. Time - when I'm away from her - feels like a curse, yet - when I'm with her - feels like a blessing. I guess time is a blessing and a curse. But then it really isn't; time will pass at the same speed whether you're feeling happiness or sorrow. But I guess most people want the good times to last and the bad times to go away.

I don't ask for much, if anything. So, just this once, I'd like for time to speed up- no, not that; I'd ask for these five days to be less, to be nothing, because the war was over, and after these five days, I wanted nothing more than her.

———

Today's the day. I got off the plane and grabbed my lone carry-on. I exited the airport and hailed a taxi, still wearing my military ACUs, the same ones I was wearing when-- no, I'm not going to think about that. I couldn't. I could, however, focus on the fact that I was on my way home to her. She, of course, had no knowledge of my return; I wasn't technically due back for another five months. It didn't matter; I have a pretty good rapport with my higher-ups.

I was exiting the taxi down the street from our home, and it was three in the morning, but that didn't deter me in the slightest. I could go a few days without sleep now. Actually, I'd already been up for two, just trying to make sure that I was mentally prepared to come back. As I was walking up the front walk, I noticed how hard my heart was pounding. Was I nervous? Hell yes. But I was also euphoric, though now feeling slightly more inclined not to show it. The military, the war... it could do that to a person, make them stoic; when it counts, at least. Being that I was occasionally a sniper, my hands had to be steady. But I found that I couldn't even hold the key to my front door up to the hole. I dropped those keys at least five times before I could successfully unlock the door. A tiny plug-in night light was glowing softly in the darkness. I was deliberate and quiet in my movements. Up the stairs... down the hall... gently, gently open the closet near the bathroom.

I pulled out a big t-shirt and some sleep shorts and changed, hanging my uniform there neatly. I washed my hands in the bathroom, freeing myself from the bacteria of the plane, the taxi... clean from that, but the blood on my hands stays. Though I knew it would.

I walked into the bedroom to see her sleeping form on my side of the bed. I let out a breath that I felt like I'd been holding since the day I left her more than a year ago. That proverbial weight had been lifted from my shoulders as I lifted the duvet and got closer to her, the bed's slight movements not enough to wake her. I couldn't believe it; I was finally home. I placed a gentle hand on the baby-soft skin of her cheek and stroked just below her eye with the pad of my thumb. Her chocolate brown eyes were an unmatched favorite of mine, and they were beginning to open slowly, almost hesitantly, as though she was reluctantly being pulled from a pleasant dream. Her hand slowly lifted to rest on my jaw.

    "Lolo... I miss you. I don't want to wait five months to see you, hold you, have you hold me..." her velvety voice drifted to me, and her words were slurred slightly. Ah, she's still asleep.