Dreamers

It was an unusually quiet night for the two young soldiers. The fire crackled and popped, waking the couple up from their slumber occasionally.

The man sat under an old oak tree, his arms resting on his knees and his head leaned against the hard wood crust. His dark, usually silky hair had  lost all its glory a long time ago and the only thing decorating his head now were tiny beads of sweat. They strolled down the small frame of his forehead, past the coal strands of hair hanging just slightly past his ears, and dripped onto his clothes. His eyelids fluttered open and allowed another drop of sweat to enter his eyes. The man blinked a few times before looking over at his subordinate, as if he was afraid that he would wake her up by the movement of his eyeballs.

She sat in a similar position as him on the other side of the campfire. Her closed eyes were covered with the blonde fringe the young woman had tried so hard to get rid of. If she were to be seen by a normal passerby, they’d think she was just a common homeless girl, but the young male soldier knew better. She was much more than a simple girl: she was rich, educated, talented and she could have done so much more than that. She could’ve studied more, or enjoyed the joys life was offering her, but instead, the young woman had chosen to follow him – a good-for-nothing guy – and had thrown away her life and all that it could have been.

A wave of sadness washed over the black-haired man’s body and shivers ran down his spine. He could hear owls hooting in the distance and the painful sough of the tired and wounded soldiers. He wanted to sigh, but couldn’t with the heavy air surrounding him. The young man looked up. He could see only a small piece of the night sky, but that was enough to keep him breathless.

The stars shined ever so brightly, as if it was just another normal day, as if thousands of innocent people hadn’t lost their lives under that exact same sky on that exact same day. He clenched his fists – he deserved to be contemned. The young soldier despised himself and the things he had done. He wished he had died together with all the people he had killed.

But the woman had killed, too. She had killed even more people than he had, but he would never think she deserved such a punishment. She was gentle, she was kind – the image of her mercilessly shooting people to death was still too unreal to be true. He looked at her and shifted in his place. At last, her face had relaxed and the young man’s lips curved upwards slightly as he observed her frail body moving up and down, following the pattern of her breathing.

He felt guilty. He felt guilty for being the reason the young woman was there, next to him – on the battlefield. He was almost certain he’d rather have her with him, but in a different location, a less dangerous place where the girl would never take the smile off her face. He noticed her eyes twitching and straightened up.

“What time is it?” the blonde mouthed, straightening up as well.

“It’s still not dawn,” the young man replied, smiling, “Go back to sleep, we’re going back home in the morning.”

The girl frowned and rubbed her temples, “I see.”

He chuckled. He knew that she wanted to act tough in front of him. It was always like that: whenever she had hurt herself when they were still young, she had never cried. She’d bite her lower lip and tears would form in the corners of her eyes, but she had never cried. Now when he looked back at those days, he saw just how carefree they had been. They had been happy.

“Say,” the girl started, bringing him back to reality, “why did you join the military?”

He kept quiet. He didn’t know how to reply to her question.

“There is a reason, right?” the girl continued, “Did you want to accomplish something?”

“I,” he started, but choked on his own spit and stopped, “I wanted to become the leader of this country.”

The blonde’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I still do,” he added, “I want to change this country; to make it better.”

“I see.” she smiled. The male soldier’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of her lips curved upward. He hadn’t seen her smile in such a long time – it felt as if it had been years since he last saw something so beautiful. He let a giggle escape his lips, “You must think I’m just being silly right now. But, this has been my dream ever since I was little.”

Silence fell upon the two soldiers and the fire crackled for a few more times times before extinguishing completely.

“And when I become the leader, I’ll make you my First Lady,” the young man added sheepishly. The girl’s cheeks reddened.

“I think,” she hesitated a bit, “that's a really nice dream.”

A unique sparkle formed in the young man’s eyes, “You do?”

“Yes,” she smiled, “I have a dream, too.”

“What is it?”

The blonde kept quiet for a minute as if she was thinking over whether she should tell him or not. She moved her lips up and down, right and left before looking at the male soldier once again.

“To become the First Lady,” her cheeks were completely red now, “Your First Lady.”

He offered her a grin and crawled to her side, wrapping his arm around her tiny body.

“It’s a hard time for us dreamers,” he finally let out a sigh and took a deep breath he had longed to take for quite some time. 

Looking at her with eyes full of affection, he smiled, “But we’ll make it somehow.”

The blonde’s expression reflected his, “I know we will.”

Inspired by Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye from Fullmetal Alchemist