Dulce et Decorum est

Suffocating and needing to leave the heavy atmosphere, Baekhyun wordlessly stands and exits the bunker, his boots splatting on the mud lining the bottom of the trenches as he gets as far away as possible from the death of Yifan.

If he had not been such a coward, if he gone to Yifan when the man had shouted out for him, their comrade would still be alive. He had only been shot in the leg, Baekhyun could have dragged him back to the trenches for cover and then returned out into the battlefield, but instead he just stood gaping at the man as if he were a circus clown. Then the next thing he knew, mud and water was being blown sky high in the exact same spot where Yifan had been lying. It had taken him a couple of seconds to realise that the water was, in fact, red, and by no means water at all.

Still struggling to breathe, Baekhyun lets out a whine and tugs at the collar of his uniform, guilt crawling over his chest and leaving streaks of fire in its wake. He killed Yifan, there is no other explanation. It may have been indirect, and it may not have been on purpose, but Baekhyun is still the reason and he knows it. If he’d have moved, if he hadn’t been a godforsaken coward, then Yifan would still be cracking jokes about the enemy and his mother in the bunker that they all share. Yet now that bunker is silent, and it’s all his fault.

A piercing sob tears from his throat and he hangs his head in shame, continuing to stumble through the maze work of trenches just to get away. He can’t be in the same room as his company, and he definitely cannot look at their distraught, demoralised and heartbroken expressions any longer. Yifan was strong, powerful, and he motivated the other troops when they wanted to scramble away in fear. He rallied them all, shouted out the orders in that confident way where you start to believe you’re going to win, and he’d killed more than enough of the other side to fill a graveyard. Except he’s dead now, Baekhyun stole all his years and the years he could have lived.

But, what can Baekhyun do, exactly? He shakes in fear at the first whistle, his legs violently start to tremble whenever he goes over the top, and he vomits at the sight of blood. Every time he shoots his rifle the force knocks him back several steps, and by the time he’s done that he’s too tired to try and suction his feet out of the mud beneath him, rendering him a sitting duck in a battlefield, a flower in the middle of a marathon. He’s useless, he can’t do anything. He hasn’t even killed an enemy soldier yet. He should have died. Not Yifan.

Clawing at his face, Baekhyun sobs again, tears starting to tumble down his cheeks. Luckily for him, his feet have guided him to a secluded area of the trenches where no one can hear him being the coward he so often is. His legs are cold, so cold, and his boots scuff along the rotting wooden planks with every step. Then he hears it: another set of footsteps plodding along behind him, and his heart comes up in his throat.

Horrified, Baekhyun tries to speed up, but his legs are so stiff that he can only just about manage to waddle. Someone knows. They found out that he killed Yifan and now they’ve come to shoot him for cowardice and treason. Well, god damn it, the whole reason why he’s a coward is because he’s scared of dying, terrified of being in pain for hours on end before everything goes black and there’s nothing he can do about it. He didn’t think he was the only one frightened about it, but clearly he is. Clearly, he is just a bag of bones that nobody needs; no one will miss him when he’s shot in the head and tossed in a ditch, not even Chanyeol. Chanyeol will be embarrassed to have known him, mortified to have kissed him the way he did. That just makes Baekhyun feel worse.

A hand grabs his shoulder suddenly and he shrieks, mouth immediately being clamped by a palm as an arm is wrapped around his torso, pressing his back into a firm, strong chest. “It’s me,” Chanyeol whispers, and Baekhyun relaxes so much that he practically sags his weight against the man behind him, defeated. “Why did you come all the way out here?” Chanyeol asks, letting Baekhyun go to stand on his own.

A little light headed, Baekhyun takes his time in turning around to face his fellow solider, guilt nipping at his insides. “I—I had to get away,” he explains meekly, slipping his helmet off to run his hands through his greasy hair. The air to his head makes him all the more dizzy, so he swiftly puts his helmet back on.

“So you thought you’d come out here all by yourself?” Chanyeol questions, sounding irked. Baekhyun’s remorse intensifies. He never meant to kill Yifan, and he certainly never wanted Chanyeol to be upset with him either. Why is everything so complicated? Why is everything going wrong?

“These are our trenches,” he mumbles pitifully, sniffling afterwards as he points around with limp hands. “An enemy bomb isn’t just going to appear—”

“That’s not the point,” Chanyeol cuts in, voice hard. “It’s cold out here, and the enemy is still over there, wide awake. One wrong move and they could have blown your head off.”

Baekhyun