I should be your Beta, not your Mate

Side-Story: 17

»A few.«

»You never fail to surprise me, Fynnick.«

Obviously my name wasn't Fynnick. My parents had named my Fynn and nothing else. But Fynn Thompson should've been dead years ago. Fynnick had been born to die in this war. Fourteen fucking years...

If the war would be only a little bit calmer they would question why I hadn't aged in years. But they never did. They were glad for every man and woman who survived.

»Sooo, your friends. What did they write?« Annoyed, I took my eyes from the plains and met the brown eyes of my bunkmate. His fucking eyes reminded me of someone I had hated and liked at the same time. It wasn't better that his hair was blond too. A bit darker than Kyran's but still blond.

Gods, I had hated that guy and he still had been my friend.

»And what's that to you?«

He shrugged with a sneaky smirk. How was this puppy-like sunshine still alive and smiling?

Grim, I averted my eyes and took it upon myself to watch out for an incoming attack. »I don't know. You're just so mysterious. And you're the only one alive, except for the lieutenant and a few others, after more than ten years.«

»Believe me, I would be glad if I could get out of this miserable war.« And be reunited with the other part of my soul.

»Well, you can always apply for vacation or to be stationed elsewhere.« I snorted in amusement. Vacation? Why would I? To be stationed elsewhere? Somewhere where the war wouldn't be as bad? No.

I wanted to be here to leave.

Gods above, I sounded so fucking...

»Why're you here?« Wow, the first time I ever asked a question to one of those meatshields.

My bunkmate looked stunned but grinned happily. »Well, both of my parents served in war. My father was a medic while my mother was a soldier. They hadn't served in a special force like ours but they still served in a pretty big war.« He didn't name the war but he didn't have to. I wasn't interested in hearing the story of his damn parents or his.

»Lovestory and all, they obviously fell in love and left the army. Retirement. After that I came and was blasted with war stories for my whole childhood. Surprise, surprise, I turned out to be a soldier too.« He turned to me for a second. »And what brings you here?« Then he watched the plains before us again. He was driving the car.

Two other guys were in the back and watching left and right. Both stone faced and with scars all over their tanned skins.

»My husband.«

»Ohh, so you wanted to get away from him? Some asshole?« He wasn't disgusted at the fact that I had a husband. Though being gay in the army was just as hard as in sports. But what else could I call Toby? My mate? Not in front of them. The other part of my soul? Too weird.

My bunkmate looked at me again and his smirk faltered. »Is he in war too?«

»He is dead.« I scowled. »And he was the love of my life.«

The other two guys coughed uncomfortably in the back but said nothing.

»But holy hell,« the guy composed himself and grinned again. »You served for fourteen years and are already married?« I could almost hear him say and widowed. »How old are you? You look like you're twenty or something.«

Ah, yes, you know I'm 107 years old. Well, my soul died when the love of my life died at the age of 95 but who counts, right?

Angrily, I scowled. »I'm older than I look.«