Love You Till The End (Robert Zussman x Reader)

32 - Y/N L/N

July 25, 1944
Caen, France

I had finally turned 21 years old. My birthday had been a couple of days ago and I had received some gifts from my family. They had sent me a birthday card with $10* in it which shocked me because I didn't expect so much from them. My mother had also included some chocolate and a brand new pair of socks. I never thought I'd be so happy to see a pair of socks, but it's not very often that we get new things while on the front lines.

"You think your Ma' could send me a pair? My feet are at war too," Aiello had jokingly said when he spotted the socks.

Even though I wasn't home, my birthday was still a good one. The boys had gotten creative and managed to stab a match into a hard biscuit from our food rations. They made it known that it wasn't much, especially Aiello who apologized for the "shitty biscuit," but it meant a lot to me. When they sang happy birthday to me, I felt grateful, but with Zussman not around, I couldn't help but wish he was there singing with them. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss him.

We've been fighting through the hedgerows in France and it sure isn't easy. The Krauts have lots of artillery positions that need to be taken care of. Snipers can also be a real pain in the ass when they are hiding in buildings and hedges. There are a lot of pear and apple trees around though which help us out when we get hungry; It's nice to have some fruit for a change.

Our current position is in a small village named Caen that we had set up camp in since it's not too far from Marigny. As the boys and I waited to be briefed by Turner and Pierson, the boys went back and forth, naming random boxers to go against each other in a made-up boxing match. I didn't bother to join in since it was pretty entertaining watching them argue as I cleaned my rifle. At one point, Stiles started bringing up a quote from Nietzsche* since their debate somehow changed to the boxer Max Schmeling not having a choice of being the Nazis' poster boy.

"Ah, that's enough mouth," Aiello told Stiles, "All right, what about Louis versus Sugar Ray Robinson?"

"If we're talkin' 1938 Louis, Robinson wins hands down," a familiar voice said. We all turned to see who had talked and were all filled with surprise.

"Ayy. Look who came back for more," Aiello said to Zussman. Daniels got up and hugged him. I put down my rifle and tried to contain my happiness as I got up and hugged him too.

"You look good, Zuss. Glad to see you back," I said and we both smiled at each other as we broke apart from our hug. Zuss told me he was glad to see my nose looked better too. I thought about the hug as I went to go stand next to Stiles and wished it had lasted longer, especially since he had embraced me quite tightly. Stiles couldn't help but nudge my arm and I tried to ignore him.

"Thought you were out another week," Daniels said curiously.

"Not after I heard a bunch of tough SOBs* were about to take Marigny," Zussman replied, looking us over. It was no surprise that he didn't bother to heal up for the full amount of time. He's always on the move and I'm sure the bed rest was driving him crazy.

"Well, playbook's workin'. This rate we'll be home by Christmas," Aiello told Zuss before changing the subject. "Don't just stand there. Let's see."

"All right," Zussman said, putting his bag down quickly and lifting up his coat to expose his wound. There was a purple line where he had gotten stabbed and it was bruised all around it. It looked like it was going to leave a nice scar since the stitching wasn't terrible. "Not bad, eh?"

"Eh, I've seen worse," Aiello said, unimpressed.

"The stitching looks good. If I had done it, that would've made it my second time having to stitch you up," I joked.