The War

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Winter {Five Years Ago}

My heart was racing as I ran through the snow. I scanned the field for his bright green eyes and -


A snowball hit the back of my head and dusted my hair in white power.

“You’re too easy!” Bash teased while retreating.

“By the time I’m done with you -”

A barrage of snowballs cut my threat short, and I ducked for cover.

“You missed!”

“Did I?”

I heard his voice from behind me and whirled around just in time for the snowball to hit my face. I didn’t move for ten seconds - I was processing just how brutally end him.

“Damn,” he whispered and dropped his snowballs. “Are you hurt?”

I faked a sniffle and he pulled me to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and plucked the snow from my hair.

“So am I.”

I smashed the snowball on his head and sprinted.

He caught up with me in no time and tackled me.

“What happened to being sorry?” I fussed at him.

We went down in the snow, and he landed on top of me.

“You,” he panted, “are cruel.”

“And you,” I reached up to caress his cheek, “are incredibly gullible,” I smiled and tossed a fistful of snow at him.

Shaking his head, he smiled, “Are you done yet?”

“Mmmmm, I guess so,” I shrugged.

His eyes lingered on mine for a second too long and then settled on my lips.

I did not want whatever was about to happen, to happen.

His rough hands brushed aside my dark waves that were dusted with snow, and he leaned in.

“It’s pretty cold out here.”

He shook his head and rolled off me.

“And we wouldn’t want you catching a cold, now would we?” He laughed as he stood.

Bash’s emerald eyes and dark curls looked even more vivid against the backdrop of Spanish snow. He held his hand out to help me stand, but given what almost happened a few seconds ago, I push his hand away and stand up on my own.

He rolled his eyes at my stubbornness and slung his arm around my shoulders.

His arm felt like a lead weight that was holding everything between us. That wasn’t the first time bash had looked at me like that, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.


The library was silent, save for the crackling sounds of the fireplace. The leather seat enveloped me as I flipped through the pages of Ficciones.

Despite the warmth emanating from the library, I was freezing. There was a soft knock at the door, even though it was open.

"Mila,” his voice was soft and tentative.

I looked up from the story of my book. Bash’s vivid green eyes were dull.

“I’m leaving,” he admitted.

Ficciones fell to the floor with a thud and my heart went cold.

“When?” My voice was barely a whisper, and tears threatened to fall. I knew he’d have to leave someday. The army needed men, and given that Bash had just turned 18, I guess they needed him too.

“Yea, I’m going to miss you too.” He remarked as he crossed the room and sat in the leather chair in front of me.

“When?” I repeated without looking up.

“You’re that excited to get rid of me?” he was trying his best to make light of the situation, but the emptiness in his voice made my heart hurt.

“When?” I demanded softly, desperate to know how long until he turned into a soldier. How long before he became distant and cold. How long before the Bash I knew was gone.

“A week,” Bash answered and looked down at the fallen Ficciones.

“Make me a promise?” I asked him.

“Anything,” he said, and at that moment, I knew something was bound to happen between us.

“Promise me you won’t die. You won’t be any fun if you’re dead,” I laughed darkly, but I was sincere in my request.

“I promise,” he was just as sincere in his reply, even though it was out of both our hands.

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