A Love Like War

KELLINS POV
It had been a few days since I've really talked to Vic. Sure, we've had our passing conversation and the odd wave hello during a drill course but nothing more. I knew it wouldn't take long for him to grow wary of me. I knew he'd leave me alone soon enough.
No one would want to be friends with a faggot like me. Right, Dad?
Early morning, but the sun beat down as I hurdled yet another jump with a sixty pound sack in my arms. The pain I felt was only fueling my passion for the idea of dying sometime soon, maybe in battle I'd cock the gun in the wrong direction. I could just see my father talking at my funeral how I died in the heat of battle even though he'd know the bullet was swallowed from my own gun.
Jumping and hurdling I pushed myself forward and ignored the morbid daydreams in my mind. Once I finished the course I threw the sack to the ground, hands on my knees as I panted in attempt to recollect my breath. The rest of the men on my quarter followed suit and stacked their sack with mine, all of us standing together and trying to breathe again. It wasn't long before our drill sergeant stomped over, a whistle between his teeth. He stood in the middle of us and took a deep breath before blowing the sound of the ear-splitting whistle.
"Ladies! If that's all you think you're doing you better think again. Get back out there. Go! Go! Go!" He shouted, spit flying as the veins in his neck bulged out. Terrified I grabbed the first sack of the pile, and running again with a grunt.
I had nearly made it halfway through when a nearby runner passed me by. I looked up and noticed the buzzed blonde hair, my heart in my throat. The distraction caught me at the sight of the man, and I found my body slammed against the concrete hurdle, thudding backwards and I landed on the ground, groaning and gasping for air.
I could hear his disgusting snicker. The hairs on my arms stood in fear and hatred. But his presence was soon replaced by the ever present thud of my body as my stomach cried in pain. Sergeant Dawson was by my side and pulling my shirt up, ignoring the scars on them as he poked and prodded at the pain.
"Dumbass, you've dislocated a rib." He scoffed, shaking his head. Blowing his whistle the rest of the group who hadn't already stopped instantly dropped their weights and came over.
"You," He pointed to the youngest of the group, his name Dan. "Campbell. Get the nurse."
"Yes sir." Dan nodded and running off.
"The rest of you, go get some water." Grunts of thank-you's and thank God were whispered through the air as the crowd dispersed. It was just me laying on the ground now, Dawson on his knees beside me.
"Word of advice for the future," he spoke as he pulled my shirt on. "Don't let the sight of anyone else ever distract you. Concrete blocks are the least of your worries, your next enemy could be a rifle to the stomach."
And shockingly, he lifted his shirt and showed me the scar on his stomach, rippled and puckered.
I was speechless as I gulped like a fish. Before I could say a word he had stood up and turned his back to me, waiting for the nurse to come and put me back together.
The quiet sound of shoes scuffling on the dirt made me lift my head to see the ankles and skirt of a nurse.
"Name?" She drawled, her mouth deep set and eyes crinkled. She tucked a grey hair behind her ear as she bent down.
"Uh, Kellin...Quinn."
"As in General Quinn?" Dawson spoke up, leaning in from behind the nurse. Not willing to lie, I nodded my head.
"Okay Mr. Quinn. Let's get you bandaged and to your room. Who's your roomate, sweetie?"
I paused, not wanting to answer. "Uh, Victor Fuentes maam."
The nurse nodded. "Rian, dear, please bring Mr. Quinn here to his room. I'll be there in but a moment." She smiled sweetly and pat his arm. He smiled back at her and I saw his handsomeness show through his rough demeanour. As if I weighed nothing, Sergeant Dawson scooped me into his arms and began to jog back. I grunted in pain at the movement, my stomach wanting to explode.
Rian placed me into my bed and held me so I was sitting up, helping me to take my shirt off. The nurse followed in soon after, wheeling a cart of medicines and gauzes in front of her. Behind her was Vic, nervously chewing on his lip as he refused to peel his eyes away, not breaking contact as he sat on his bed.
"Mr. Fuentes here has been graced with the duty of your caretaker." The nurse smiled, patting his arm. He smiled slightly and nodded, still some unrecognizable look in his eyes. I had barely noticed Dawson silently get up and leave the room when the nurse suddenly injected a needle into a vein in my arm.
"Shit!" I hissed, wanting to rub at the itchy burning pain.
"Morphine dear. This'll hurt for a bit, and this will numb it." She smiled. Ripping away a piece of gauze with her frail fingers she quickly worked at me, her fingers moving swiftly along as she wrapped the gauze around my torso. I felt a numb ache as my body began to float away.
****
"Kellin. Kellin, come on. Wake up." I heard Vic whisper in my ear, his lips tickling the cold skin. I shuttered and my eyes began to flutter, Vic backing away immediately.
"How are ya feeling?" He asked, a smile on his lips and a blush to his cheeks.
"Uh," I replied groggily. "Sore? Tired. Why am I awake?"
Vic just laughed. "I can help with the first but the second is my job to stop you from sleeping. This head of yours is concussed, and your ribs are fractured. The medicine you're pumped up with could be harmful if you sleep while they work their magic." I simply raised my eyebrow at his clear knowledge of everything. I couldn't remember much except for how it happened, the look on his face in my mind.
“I paid attention.” Vic smirked, clearly proud of his memorization. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He added, quieter.
Placing my hand precariously on the crook of his neck, I ignored the flashing warning signs in my head and leaned in. Vic took a deep breath, eyes fluttering.
“Thank you.” I breathed.
“Ahem.” I heard at the doorway and pulled back instantly.
“Oh, G-Gen-General Quinn.”