Chapter Text
Dear Tord,
You held my hand for me in the rubble of the life that we ruined together. That you ruined. That I ruined. Our friends were gone now, nothing more that corpses beneath a collapsed house. But they never really cared did they? No. At least that's what you said. Life once filled with adventure and happiness now stripped from the very things that made it special. Now it's time for a new adventure. One with you. 'Let's go Tom' you say to me, tugging my hand to pull me away from the collapsed house. Your car pulled up to the corner and you hopped in. 'It's too late to turn back now, love' you say to me. The fuck it is. We killed two of the people that I cared about the most. All I have now is you. So I hop in the car. You pull me close and whisper sweet nothings into my ear. We both know it's bullshit, but for now we need it.
The next few weeks are filled with something heavy in the air. Everyone feels it, but only a few know why. Though it was hard to kill the people we lived with for years, it was needed. For what they had done to us. You set your desk on fire one day, and I watched you do it. We saw the flames dance together, got to see the fire lighting up the usually dark room. It was warm and beautiful. Paul and Patryk ran in when they heard the smoke alarms go off a few minutes later and put out the fire. That night we slept in the same bed. We sat in the feelings that came with our past, trying to handle them. An everlasting battle taking place in our minds and between us. The feelings were usually let out on each other. Using each other as objects to blame our hurt. It usually ended up with blood splattered on the walls and a few days of bandages. It felt better on the bandage days, but when it started to heal it happened again. Love, fight, heal, repeat. An unspoken cycle of hurt that kept us going. We had other things to deal with anyways, like running your army. The army you built. The army we maintain.
Food and supplies were the most important things. Most of our soldiers come from poor families and they need the help. Your daily speeches keep inspiration in our soldier's hearts, pouring your heart out until you start crying about the freedom we will bring. 'Safety to our families! Safety to our loved ones! Vengeance for those we lost in battle! Vengeance for the ones that died due to this flawed system! We will not let their names go in vain!' You cry out to the army as they cheer ecstatically. Our first actual battle was a success and we were able to take over a new territory. You're so happy, finally able to keep a promise to people, giving you more motivation. We work all night on the plan for the next attack.
The next fight we have about a month later ends up with broken ribs fingers and nose. At least I was able to make you bleed. This time it was because of one noise you made. It was bad. Healing is quick and we don'ttalk about it. Nothing like deep bloody wounds to show love to the only person that will ever love you back.