The days our abandoned hearts grew together

Prologue

Hello people,

This is my first english story so I apologize in advance for any grammar error. This will be a short story (hopefully) and I will try to update as soon as I can. Hope you like it!

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Just as the sun was setting, they were sitting in an old and somehow wet trunk that was an indicator of a former camping site right besides the entrance of the forest. The air was tepid and humid which didn't help in maintaining the fire that now was small and little sparks emerged from it, rising up to the level of the faces of the two men there. The ambiance was forlorn, through the minutes passing they looked at each other with awkwardness and their glazes reflected guilt and gloominess. Neither of them had done a bad thing but the thought of having a serious conversation, very rare in their normal affairs, was off-putting. One of the men, a tall and burly young man with great black and wavy thick hair reaching up to the shoulders and a messy stubble was looking directly into the eyes of the other, a slightly smaller man whose hair often resembled a hibiscus with define and androgynous facial characteristics. The first one held the superiority of ranks between the two as it was evident by his demeanor and wording, a noble of nobles, and even there the male had a magnanimous heart as he was equally splitting the genoa dried meat, one of his last food resources in the dreadful battlefield they were to head on in a few hours. Continuous glancing happened between the two as a vast uncertainty floated in the air, will they survive another battle? will they acquire more scars or lose a limb? They had a stroke of luck during the tormentous three years the war had lasted but their minds couldn't cope with the atrocious memories that filled their dreams every twilight, the slashing and screams of many men and the dank footsteps of soldiers trampling dead bodies to continue with their killing spree.

The red haired man narrowed their distance and looked directly to the other, he could see himself reflected in those big and expressive orbs, like a pond reflecting the moon's shine. Only in them he could see the reality of his situation, a lanky and almost malnourished fellow with an unkempt haircut that before resembled a precious hibiscus now a trampled flower. He couldn't endure the cryptic fear that overcame him when he saw the eyes of this most cherished friend, his lost brother, now devoid of happiness and filled with anguish tinted with exhaustion. A hug connected and it was unclear who initiated the interaction, however, it didn't matter at this point. The intensity in which their thoughts flowed inside could be felt in the air, every word that crossed the long bridge of the spatial mind to the physical present resonated in each other, a lingering but devious drum.

"If the sky above wishes for our salvation, then we must not die, we should persevere..." said the red haired

"Victor, follow my lead when it comes, do not break apart from the formation and we will be secure. And what have I told you all these years? Soldiers that have dying wishes will get murdered in the battle"

"Sorry, will do" a little pause came and he noticed the embrace was tighter "The north has been cleared and the camp thinks this may be the last or one of the last battles, what will happen then? Will you become a proud duke or something? I should stop calling you Heinrich but my lord at this point"

"You needed to call me lord since the day we met"

"That's right... I guess I always disrespected you then"

"Not exactly as I wished your words to be true when spoken to me"

Tiny glittering drops were formed rapidly in the golden eyes of Victor, he didn't know when he came to this strange world that he could form significant and precious connections with others though he did, and now he was facing an immense fear that did want to leave his body. Every memory had been sealed with hot iron, it was traumatizing and it left a scar. He separated the embrace and ate the dried meat offered by Heinrich, eating it very slowly. The noble sighed quietly, his gut was telling him that this would be the final battle to the standing war and that would change everything in their relationship. Long ago were the days when they went to classes together and could address each other by their names. Victor was far from noble as he was son of a nouveau rich family, one where their family head bought a barony title marrying their oldest daughter with an immense bid in order to enter the high society; war as jarring as it was, was a place were they became a unit, a ride or die type of friendship. Heinrich lamented to himself the fact that he was going to miss such a horrible experience just for having the young man by his side, his one and only true friend, he was unsure of how they would keep in contact, Letters, balls and tea reunions? How could any of those formalities capture the fondness of their connection, the slight anxiousness that grew within him?