Artificial Horizon - A César Fernando Basa x Reader story

XLVIII - Headwind

A wind which is blowing in the opposite direction to the direction of movement or flight.

* * *

I don't know how long it had been that I remain right there. By the time that my throat is already sore and I can no longer shed any tears, I only turn to Pedro and request for some water and clean cloth. I know that it is strange, but I know that it is something that I must do. After all, I can't leave and just let go; and if this nightmare continues, I'll need to preoccupy myself with other things aside from grief alone... or else, I know that I'll lose myself.

A few minutes later, Pedro indeed returns with what I've requested. He seems to realize what I am planning to do that he manages to fetch a basin of water, placing it just right next to me before he excuses himself. Before leaving though, he tells me, "It is a gruesome sight, (Y/N). Ang sabi nila, tama raw sa ulo at sa tiyan noong nag-ground strafed 'yong isang Zero. Kaya..."

When I've somehow calmed down earlier, I only hold on to César's hand, my fingers gingerly and absent-mindedly playing with that bracelet of his, and stare at his otherwise calm face. I didn't know that death can be so peaceful for others; and his preparedness for it despite too many dreams unfulfilled seems to lead to such. So, without even looking back at Pedro, my mind ever so sure since I've made the request, I tell him, "Kaya ko. Or rather... Kailangan kong gawin."

Finding it to be the end of the conversation, he finally leaves me alone as some sort of privacy more than anything else. Just thinking of considering it as 'privacy' doesn't feel right at all; when I am in the midst of too many dead bodies right now, only to be reminded where I am with the shuffling presence of other soldiers moving in and out with the ordeals of the dead. But, somehow, it gives me some chance to be truly alone with attending to César.

Dipping in the towel to the water and wringing it enough, I head on to wipe away the dirt and blood on his face, igniting the paleness and colorless of his skin right now. His hair had been matted with dried blood, and when I reach out to find where the wound may be, I come across to a soft flesh that cuts through his temple that definitely causes all of the blood in the first place. It had been a graze that it didn't fully destroy his face that I've admired and loved. I know what a bullet can do, especially from that of a plane; and if he had been hit anywhere else, it will definitely be much worse to deal with. I also continue on wiping every strand of his hair that with the lack of blood circulating, whatever remaining that had been drained out, is gone; the injury ceased bleeding and remains as a skinless muscle.

Afterwards, I bite my lower lip hard enough to taste the rustiness of my own blood, knowing fully that I'll be needing to deal with seeing the extent of his injuries that definitely killed him. I doubt that it is all that just as Pedro had mentioned; because, if that had been the case, they could've brought him to the medical bay for an immediate surgery. However, they didn't. It is wrong of me to deduce that it had been because Victor won't let him go or what. I know that what he did is to remain right there until César's last moments. Though I may be jealous of him, I know that I shall be thankful that he had been there for him to the end.

The khaki flight suit had absorbed most of the blood that one will actually think that it had been red all along. The absence of his cloth helmet, goggles, scarf and leather jacket seems to denote that those aren't on his person at the time that he was ground strafed; and if those ever do, even those items will be bathed in blood, too. The buttons of the flight suit are already undone, that as I untie the belt and unzip it down until his waist, I realize that there's only three bullet holes through the front of the flight suit, but his entire body is dipped in blood that the fabric sticks against his skin as I slowly removes it.