Seventeen years old when he broke my heart,
Seventeen day later when another picked up the piece,
Seventeen years together,
Seventeen thousand problem,
Seventeen days of reliving my past and finding a new future,
Seventeen minutes until I took my l...
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THE LOUD, EAR-PIERCING screech of a whistle next to my ear sends a bolt of pain straight to my temples. I turn to scowl at Jimin as he smirks at me, the whistle still dangling from his lips.
"Sorry, Captain. Was that too loud for you?" Jimin asks with an innocent look.
I should have known better than to drink the night before weekly drills at the station. As the captain of Franklin Ten House, I'm not required to run the drills with my men, but most of the time I do. Under normal circumstances, I'm out there with them in the bay running advancing hose drills, shoulder carries with two-hundred pound test dummies, cradle carries, ladder sprints and a multitude of other drills designed to keep the men in shape and provide a little healthy competition.
Today, however, I'm perfectly fine holding the stopwatch and letting Jimin, our Incident Commander, run things. If he blows that whistle anywhere near me again, though, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions.
"Alright, boys, that's a wrap!" Jimin shouts to the group of guys bent over, gasping for air after the last timed run. "Haruto and Asahi, you guys had the slowest times tonight so you're on kitchen duty. Get your asses inside and make me a pot pie!"
..
Haruto
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Asahi
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