Darkness had not always been your enemy.

Back then, when the days were still beautiful and the nights filled with happy laughter and long talks, the darkness had counted among your closest friends.

It had been so relaxing whenever you had closed your eyes. Then the world around you had become silent and all that remained was a gentle darkness that took you in its arms and protected you, until sleep let you go again and a new day began.

At that time you still felt rested. Calm even.

The fear had come much later.

It was only when Chris and your path had parted again that the darkness had turned its back on you and become something evil. Turned into something that made your heart beat faster in fear and sent you nightmares that would have made even hell cry.

You remembered that exact day well.

The day Chris and you had cut the ties and chosen solitude.

It had been a dark day.

Dark and cold.

Almost like death.

It had rained that afternoon like there was no tomorrow.
The water had collected on the gray asphalt, forming puddles in which you couldn't escape your own reflection.

Your face was black and blue, threads had been sewn into your flesh everywhere to hold the wounds together.

The pain whenever you moved your mouth felt almost real.

Angered, you drew your eyebrows together.

Rain dripped down from the umbrella as you leaned over and stepped into the puddle with your shoe.

Water splashed up and wet your black pants. They had forced your into a suit, simple but sufficient to look passable for the occasion.

The water in the puddle twitched briefly, then the reflection returned and forced you to look further into that battered face, with those angry eyes and hatred directed at yourself.

The sight had angered you at the time, you felt mocked and weak.

Now that you remembered, a strange pressure filled your chest.

You felt pity for yourself.

But you didn't know if it was because of your stupidity at the time in believing that everything was your fault or because you knew what a bad decision you were going to make.

"(Y/N).", with gentle strength Chris put a hand under your chin and forced you to look at him.

The expression on his face was that of a man who felt all the pain in the world in one moment.

And yet he tried to smile gently.

For you.

"Chris.", your voice was shaking, you could already feel the tears filling your eyes.

But you swallowed the sadness. You didn't want him to see how bad you were feeling at that moment.

He was as hurt as you were, but you didn't want to burden him with your feelings as well. He had to deal with a lot himself.

"You're getting wet.", you said, lifting the black umbrella higher so he could hold his head under it.

With a soft sigh, he slipped behind you, one hand on your hip, and took the umbrella so he could hold it higher.

"Are you cold?", he asked, rubbing your shoulders.

A little warmth filled your body, but it quickly disappeared again, leaving nothing but an empty feeling.

You shook your head.

"I'm fine.", without thinking about it your hand sought his and squeezed it.

He was wearing a bandage, small bloody stains already appeared on the white fabric. The injury would bother him for a few years and to this day he still had trouble moving his little finger.

He winced briefly, but said nothing.

"Sorry...", you pulled your hand back again, but he reached for it and wrapped it with his.

"It's okay.", he tilted his head and let his lips rest on your hair. "It doesn't hurt so much anymore. I got painkillers today, it's okay with that. But what about you? You took more hits than me."

A bitter laugh left your lips.

How bad it felt to remember that.

That laugh had hurt so much. And it had tasted so bitter on your tongue.

"I saved you.", your fingers locked with his. "The doctors said I should have some rest, but for the funeral I was allowed out."

Your eyes wandered past the edge of the umbrella into the distance.

Not far from you wooden boxes were lined up neatly, wrapped with flags and each with a wreath of flowers.

Coffins.

You remembered exactly how many there were. Each and every one of them was filled with a corpse. Some less damaged than others.

"Twenty-seven.", you murmured, your eyes fixed on the boxes. "Twenty-seven victims."

Chris sighed.

His posture tensed and suddenly he was completely stiff. As if he had forgotten how to be human and had turned to stone.

"Twenty-seven soldiers.", he said, but his voice sounded strangely empty.

"Twenty-seven comrades, Chris.", you swallowed hard. "Twenty-seven friends and twenty-seven humans."

Suddenly you began to tremble.

The feeling of hot tears dripped down your skin.

A whimpering sound left your lips, but you quickly silenced it by pressing a hand over your mouth. The movement hurt, your chest itched and it felt like fire was burning in your lungs.

"It was never harmless.", Chris pressed a kiss on the top of your head. "They knew what they were getting into. They knew they could die."

"They didn't know that their own employer would sacrifice them like animals to cover up the truth."

With a pained expression on his face, Chris squinted his eyes and sighed heavily.

At that moment, he could not answer anything. And even if he would have had the words, he wasn't sure it was good to talk.

"You could be in one of those boxes.", your voice was still weak, but talking to him was easier. "I was close to it too, Chris. I was dead. For three minutes I saw it. Everything."

As your eyes connected with his, a soft whimper left his lips.

"But you're here. And I'm here.", gently he took your face with both hands. "And I will stay by your side."

You sighed.

"Chris. You live because I almost died. If I hadn't taken that risk, you'd be in one of those boxes right now."