Pending Death

> "It's hard, Myck… but you need to pull yourself together. In two days, you're out. You'll have to step back into your role in the army."

> "Yeah… I know."

> "Are you kidding me right now?"

> "Yeah… I know."

> "Are you drunk or something?"

> "Yeah, John. I took SXH4. So what? It's not like it's going to kill me. And even if it does… my life's worthless anyway."

> "What the hell is wrong with you? You're still alive. Unlike the others."

> "Maybe you would've preferred if I died too, huh?"

> "You're in no state to talk. When you're ready, I'll be around."

> "Go to hell, John."

That was the moment everything between John and me started to break. We didn't hate each other, but we didn't love each other either. Whatever bond we once had was gone—crumbled like dust in the wind.

He hadn't done anything to me. I hadn't done anything to him. And maybe that was the problem. Silence. Distance. Indifference.

We were no longer brothers-in-arms. Just soldiers.

Drugs.

You know them. Of course, you do.

But have you ever tasted one?

For most, it's a curse. They say it destroys you. But I'd say it paints you. It turns the world pink, makes you forget the weight of time and pain.

The price? Your life. Just place it on the other side of the scale.

And I… I was never afraid to gamble mine.

John, though… he was nothing like me.

He'd always get back up. Fall ten times, rise ten times.

Stubborn. Resilient.

He never touched a drug—not even once. He always said:

> "If I run from pain, I'll never know the true worth of the road I walked."

It sounded ordinary. But coming from him… it was different. He lived it.

> "So… you finally decided to come talk to me."

>"Yeah. I wanted to apologize… for what I said. I was—"

>"I know, Myck. So? You coming back?"

>"No. Of course not."

>"I thought that's why you came."

>"I came to say sorry. Not to reclaim my post."

My voice shifted then—cold, sharp.

> "You can't hide behind your accident forever."

>"Why the hell do you care if I don't return to war? Marc… the others… they're all dead!"

>"I know. But you're a soldier, Myck. War is your duty."

>"My duty, huh? Every breath I take feels like hell, John."

>"You think you're the only one suffering? Everyone's suffering, Myck. Me too. Stop acting like the world revolves around your pain. Billions suffer. Ours? It's nothing."

>"So you're just gonna swallow it all and keep moving?"

He clenched his fists. My words cut deeper than I thought.

> "Yes. If it helps others, I'll take it. I won't complain."

>"You're too naïve for war. Hell, so am I."

>"Naïveté isn't always a flaw. I get it, Myck."

>"No… you don't."

>"I know how you feel."

>"STOP! Stop saying you understand. You don't. I'd rather be dead. Can you understand that? No, of course you can't."

>"So… those are your final words to me?"

>"Unless you've got another speech about surviving war."

>"I hope… I just hope—"

And he left. His face… scarred. Worn.

That was enough to make me snap.

I punched the wall until my knuckles split, leaving my blood smeared across the cracked plaster.

Truth was, I wasn't angry.

I was scared.

Scared of what? Of who? I still don't know.

Lying on my bed, I whispered:

> "Let them all burn. Their war, their world. I never wanted any of this."

I remember a day long ago.

It was me, John, and Jenny.

We'd found a dead dog in the courtyard. No one wanted to touch it—except John.

He picked it up carefully. Then he turned to us and said:

> "Come on. Let's bury him. Otherwise, he'll never find peace."

Always thinking of others.

Jenny was the only one who truly understood him.

Jenny… if only she knew.

Back then, I only had the group photo to keep my heart warm.

What I didn't know was… John was suffering too.

Far more than I ever imagined.

> "I did what I had to do. Even if I understand him, staying here… won't change a damn thing."

He sat down on the cold floor, tears brimming in his eyes.

He cried silently.

Unlike me, he never burdened anyone with his pain.

He too had moments of weakness.

Maybe if I'd seen that fifteen years ago… things would've been different.

But the missions resumed.

The vicious cycle restarted.

As always, I was stuck in the middle.

I never die.

But I'm always waiting my turn.

To Be Continued…The Day I Broke...