"Fuck," you hissed, extreme white-hot pain shooting through the side of your head like a millions needles. You typically had a high pain tolerance, but this injury was like no other.
"Stay still," Kilgore murmured, his bare hands steady as they hovered over your head. He attacked your injury with forceps and a cotton ball doused in alcohol, dabbing at your injury repetitively.
"Do you even know what you're doing?" You pried one eye open to look at him. Kilgore had his cloth mask off. He had strewn it to the side earlier. He needed to get a "better look" at your injury, or so he says.
You had already seen him without his sniper veil all the way back in Mexico at Alejandro's safe house, but the sight of his matured face was something you'd never get tired of seeing. The dark blond stubble on his chin, his smooth, chiseled face, his sharp nose and sunken, seemingly always tired eyes... He was quite beautiful, you must admit.
It made you wonder what Simon looked like.
"I was a combat medic for a while back in my old battalion," Kilgore muttered, "so, yeah, I know what I'm doing."
"What did you perform medical care on horses?" you said. As if in response, he dabbed the cotton ball on your head with more force, causing the sharp pain to shoot up your nerves once again. "Ow!"
"No," he said plainly. "But you don't learn to be gentle when your dealing with men with their legs blown off while you're getting shot at from all directions."
"Touché," you acknowledged. You then referred to your injury, "How bad is it?"
"Not bad," Kilgore hummed. He pushed some of your dark hair out of the way. "Not bad at all. I mean you broke the skin off your head, but it'll heal with some stitches."
"Not bad?" you said in disbelief. Seriously? That's not bad to him? Well, at least it explained why you were in so much pain earlier. You just about almost knocked yourself out.
He stopped what he was doing, and then met his gaze with you, growing serious all at once. "[Y/N], I've seen worse, honestly." You knew just by looking into his eyes exactly what he meant. And I mean, hey, you've been in the military for years now, let's be honest, you've seen exactly what he meant.
"It's just..." you scoffed, shaking your head in disapproval of yourself. He grabbed your chin and stilled your movement so that he could continue to clean your wound. You shot him a quick glare, but finished your sentence nonetheless: "I'm not used to getting hurt. That's all."
He snorted. "Really."
"Yes, really," you retorted. You had the urge to give him another look, but didn't dare move your head. You wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. "I'm a sniper. Things like this don't really happen to me."
"That's hard to believe."
"Why?"
"After the stunt you pulled tonight, I mean, of course it would be unfathomable that you don't get injured often," he explained, his words filled with both worry and anger. You had already learned by now that he was upset with you for putting yourself in danger like that. You knew he would be. "You're reckless."
You rolled your eyes. "Yeah. I've heard that one before."
"Seriously," Kilgore persisted. "You are. You need to chill out."
"'Chill out...'" you mocked his voice. "What is that, some sort of cool kid language I don't know about?"
"Cool kid language..." he laughed. Your solar plexus grew warm at the sound, and made you recall earlier that night with Ghost when you had heard him laugh for the first time — but this isn't the first time you've ever heard König laugh, it's just the first time you've heard him laugh after so many years. "Don't be ridiculous."
"What, do you have some secret friends I don't know about?" you smiled warmly. "Like friends that use the phrase 'chill out'?"
"No... I," he said, smile faltering. "I don't really have friends."
You snorted, trying to ignore the pinch of sadness in his tone. "You have me."
"I wouldn't call us 'friends.'"
"Oh, really?" you chortled. "Then what would you call us?"
"You tell me."
"No, you tell me," you replied.
"I'll tell you the day you stop trying to get yourself killed," Kilgore said slyly. You punched him on the arm. "I talked to Ghost, by the way."
"You what?" you said, quirking a brow.
He made a humming sound, as if saying "yes." "I did. I thanked him."
"You what?!" you exclaimed in shock, moving away from Kilgore completely. He sat there on the concrete completely still, his hand floating with the forceps and cotton ball right where your head had been.
"I thanked him for saving your life," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Not even a day ago you were at each others throats, and now your thanking each other?"
"I thanked him," he corrected. "Doesn't mean his response was entirely accepting." He gestured his hand for you to move back to him. "Come back. I'm not done."
You sighed and moved back so he could continue to clean your wound. You tilted your head upwards at the night sky, the once overcast sky more clear. Stars twinkled softly above; it was calm, yet, for some reason, you were burning up. Maybe it was the overexertion of your body today, but you felt like you were on fire.
Sometimes you felt like Kilgore was too kind to exist in this world, especially for him to be in the military. He was exactly the opposite of Ghost — considerate, patient, respectful. But, similarly to Simon, he was protective over the things he loved. You being one of them.
"What all was said?" you asked once you had calmed down a little.
"You're burning up," Kilgore realized, ignoring your question completely. He rummaged through his bag where he had pulled out his medical supplies and produced a bottle of water. "Here. It's not cold, but it will hydrate you."
You said a small "thank you," and then unscrewed the lid, chugging the water. It dribbled from your mouth, but it managed to quench your thirst a bit. You felt a lot better when you had gotten a good swig out of it.
"Looks like you needed it," Kilgore chuckled. He sighed out of his nose, and then discarded his cotton ball. He then got out some bandages, unraveling the roll and beginning to wrap your injury. The pain in your head has mostly subsided by now. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought.
"So... my question?" you said.
"Right... um." He thought for a moment as he wrapped your head, going underneath your chin and back around. "It wasn't anything crazy really... After you and Ghost caught Hofmann and brought him back here to this old warehouse, I pulled him to the side while you were talking to Captain Price about what you had just done."
"You mean when I talked to him about my little suicide mission?" you said, acknowledging your own faults.
He laughed. "Yeah... That."
"In my defense...!" you began wittily. "I didn't really—"
"—think it through?" he finished for you. "Yeah, you tend to not do that at all." You nudged him with your shoulder in irritation.
"I was going to say," you said, "that I didn't really think he was gonna call all his men on me like that. I was just gonna take him and his brother out stealthily from the rooftop. Like an assassin." You joked.
"Yeah, how did that work out for you?" Kilgore replied.
"Very well, actually," you said in a matter-of-factly tone. "We captured him, and Ghost, Soap, Price, Alejandro, Rudy, and Gaz are interrogating him as we speak." You then looked to the side, pulling grass out of cracks in the concrete. "And I would be in there too if—"
"—if you didn't get your head busted open?" Kilgore interrupted again. "You'd think it would knock some sense into you."
"Stop finishing my sentences."
He rolled his eyes, and then rummaged in his bag again for some tape to secure the wrappings around your head, holding the bandages secure so that they wouldn't unravel while he did so. "But, anyway, Ghost isn't really all that bad."
"He's a manipulative asshole!" you cried. "What do you mean he's not that bad? He lied to me for weeks about your whereabouts and- and..." You trailed off, running out of things to say.
"You would have done the same thing if you were in his shoes, [Y/N]," he reasoned gently. "I mean, imagine a stranger comes out of nowhere and tries to kill one of your comrades, and then just out-of-the-blue is like 'nevermind, guys, you can trust me!' I'd be pretty cautious too, even if it meant having to keep something a secret just to keep that person from going on a killing spree."
"A killing spree?" you said. "Is that what you see me as? A psychopath?" König secured your bandages with the tape, and then put all his belongings back into his duffel bag. He fiddled with the zipper while crouched. You got to your feet and put your hands on your hips. His back was to you. "Why are you defending him?"
"[Y/N]... you are a war criminal now seeing as you just killed a citizen with no plausible intent."
"You mean the other Hofmann?" you scoffed. "Oh, please, Kilgore, he was not innocent! He and his brother had a damn missile in public fucking theatre! Oh, yes, because that just screams innocent." You felt the irritation bubbling within you at the moment, and when you get angry, your tongue gets loose. "And we're all war criminals, Kilgore! We all agreed to take Hofmann hostage! No going back now!" You threw your hands up, shaking your head as you allowed your arms to fall back down to your sides.
You couldn't believe he was defending Ghost. The one person you could use as an excuse to despise Simon now apparently likes him. You thought Hell would freeze over before that happened.
"War criminals or not, you still put yourself in peril today, [Y/N]." He jabbed a finger in your direction, his anger and worry evident on his features, the same features you were admiring just minutes before. "And Ghost saved your life. If he hadn't been there, you could have died."
"Why didn't you try to go after me then, huh?" you spat, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Orders," he said simply.
"Orders..." you mimicked his words in incredulously. "See that's the problem with you, Kilgore, you care about fucking orders instead of your own best friends life."
"It's not orders I care about, [Y/N], it's putting you in more danger than you already were," Kilgore seethed. "If I had gone after you, I could have risked the lives of citizens and blown our cover completely. I would have caused more alert to Hofmann's men than there already was and I would have risked your life even more."
Though you saw the reasoning in his words, you continued to argue, "It doesn't fucking matter. I didn't want Ghost there. I wanted you."
"Stop lying to yourself, [Y/N]," he said. "You were thankful that he was there and you know it. You're just to stubborn to admit it to yourself."
"Admit what to myself?" you laughed dryly.
"That you're in love with him."
"That I'm what?" you breathed.
"You heard me," König said furiously, but you could see the pain that flashed in his eyes. "I saw the way you looked at him back at the safe house. I saw the way he looked right back at you. If you don't have feelings for one another, then I don't know anything, clearly."
"You don't." You balled up your fists, approaching him slowly as your fury rose. "You don't know anything. You don't know anything at all. You haven't been in my life for seven fucking years, so what the hell would you know?"
You don't know what possessed you to say something like that, but you did. Hearing him of all people accuse you of having romantic feelings for Simon absolutely enraged you, and hurt you to an extent you couldn't explain.
"Yeah," he nodded bitterly, and put his hands together, fiddling with his fingers. A tear rolled down his left eye. "I haven't. And I wish I was. But I tried."
You regretted everything you had just said right then and there, the world crushing around you. Your heart sunk and ached, and your legs went numb. Your head swam with a million thoughts at once, yet nothing at all. You bit on your lips so hard you drew blood.
"I know..." you said under your breath. He raised his head to meet your gaze, eyes tinted with red. Your heart began to break seeing him like that. Guilt filled you from your head to your toes. "I'm sorry."
And then, you don't know what it was. Maybe it was seeing him cry, the guilt, the fear, the anger, whatever it was, you began to feel tears pool in your eyes too. Your cheeks were wet as you sniffled, trying your best to wipe them away. You felt weak, useless. You felt like an absolute piece of shit.
"Don't cry," he said gently, all anger that was previously in his being seemingly dissipating all at once. You looked up at him through your dark lashes, wet from the moisture of your tears. His bare hand reached up to your face. He used his thumb to wipe away the tears as they came. "I know you didn't mean it.."
"I can't be what you need, Kilgore.." you choked. "I... I can't. I don't have it in me."
"What do you mean?" he asked breathlessly, as if being so close to you took him aback. Your bottom lip quivered as you managed out your next words.
"Am I a bad person?"
You felt like a child again. You felt like a kid again with him. It was Vienna all those years ago all over again... It was you and Kilgore, confiding in each other over your parents, all your familial issues. It was depressingly nostalgic.
"You're not," Kilgore assured you, his voice filled with resolve. But despite that, you could still hear the uncertainty that lied behind his words. "You're not.. [Y/N]... You are no black swan, and this is not another tragedy. I know you're still you. I know that girl I met in junior high is still in there. You just don't see yourself the way I do."
"But, Kilgore, I'm different now. I'm not her anymore. I'm a soldier. I'm a killer."
"You're not.... You're not..." he repeated himself, as if trying to convince himself of what he was saying. "It's not—"
"Kiss me," you said breathlessly, gazing up at him through your lashes. He knitted his brows together, as if he didn't hear you correctly. "Kiss me. I can't- I won't-..." You searched for the right words to express how you felt, but couldn't find them at all.
Make me forget.
And it seems like your consent was all it took.
Your lips collided, filled with fervent, hungry passion. It was everything all at once — angry, sad, lovely, heartfelt... You tasted him greedily, pushing yourself deeply into him, into his soul, into his very being. You needed him. More than anything.
You needed him to hold onto the last bit of goodness you still had left in you.
He moaned softly into the kiss, as if he was relieved, as if he had been waiting for it. You both have. For years. His hands cusped your face as he guided you to the wall, pushing you against it; Kilgore's hand braced the back of your head to protect it from any harm. Your heart fluttered at his compassion for your well-being.
"I-..." Kilgore broke away, beginning to speak. You held a finger to his lips.
"Don't talk."
He searched your eyes for something, but then abandoned this short lived mission when his lips crashed right back into yours. He whimpered as your hands dug through his hair, clawing at his scalp. Your heart pounded behind your rib cage. Your whole body went numb, as if he was the only person on the planet.
But despite the blissful deterioration of your senses, you still managed to feel a presence watching you.
✧
[A/N] - ANGSTTTTT OMG.
i love writing angst sm guys like it's actually a problem 🥲 anyway i hope y'all enjoyed the chapter! we only have a few more left before the end of the book. i promise you guys something really... spicy... is coming soon, so stay patient ;)
until next time !!
-abi