Desperation is a funny feeling. It can make people do the most craziest things, make people believe the most ridiculous lies and even bring the most unlikely people together, or tear them apart. 

But above all, desperation can bring out the deepest, most hidden truths in people, because in times of despair, no one wants to leave anything unsaid. 

The news spread like wildfire. Within 20 minutes of it being announced, there was a frantic flurry of activity as all soldiers prepared for what was to come. 

North Korean forces were spotted along the border at Incheon. Reserves from the military base were being called for aid, led by General Oh and his squad of commanders. 

"Units three and five, you will fly to Incheon as soon as possible. Unit four will fly to Munsan. Suspicious enemy territory has been reported within the demilitarized zone there and they too need backup. Unit one and two will stay here, in case further support is needed," the General spoke sharply and clearly, pointing to the map spread across the table. The lieutenants and commanders around him nodded and saluted sharply, before filing out of the room. Sehun, trailing right behind Chanyeol, was the last to leave. General Oh gazed at the map wearily and sighed. 

Another war was the last thing he or his country needed. He knew what war did - war destroyed. It destroyed the land, it's people and the human spirit. It killed thousands of people, and for what? General Oh had been serving in the military for more than half his lifetime, and even he still wondered. 

He hated the idea of exposing more innocent people to its deathly horrors. 

"Sehun," he spoke, his voice resigned and quiet. The said man halted, turning around to look at his grandfather, blinking as he took in the grim expression lining the elders face, the hard lines running through his forehead as the man sighed. 

"Yes, sir?" Behind him, Chanyeol glanced back curiously, but continued walking. He knew Sehun would fill him in later if it was important. 

"Your cadets. They might need to fight next time," he straightened, looking his grandson in the eye. He saw him tense. 

"They're not ready," Sehun replied immediately, his eyebrows furrowing. "You can't send them to battle."

"We may have no choice, Sehun!" the elder snapped, rubbing his temple. "We're not prepared for war. We've been at peace with the North for over 10 years. Our army isn't equipped or ready to fight them again. We need as much backup as we can, and if that requires using half-trained cadets, then they too must fulfil their duty as part of the army."

"They'll die," Sehun murmured softly. General Oh didn't reply. He didn't need to - they both knew the answer anyway. Sehun's eyes hardened. "You're willing to-"

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes to protect our country," General Oh interrupted coldly. "That's our job, Sehun. This is war. People will die no matter what. But through their deaths, millions of others may live. You understand this, Sehun. I know you do. Which is why I want not another word about this." 

Sehun closed his eyes in defeat, his heart sinking inside his chest. He knew why he didn't want his class to be deployed - a warm smile, bubbly laughter and a familiar feeling of warmth flashed across his mind. His stomach twisted - he didn't want to lose Park Chaeyoung. Not now, not after everything they'd been through. 

But did he have a right to try and stop her? He was simply her drill instructor. Nothing else. She'd chosen to enlist and stay in the army. It was her decision. 

Clenching his fist, Sehun looked away from the piercing eyes of his grandfather. "I understand," his gritted out. His grandfather nodded, eyeing him carefully. 

"Good."

**

"You're going to war," a soft, familiar voice stopped him in his tracks. Sehun looked up to see Chaeyoung, standing by the door to his office, gazing at him softly. Her expression was grave. His heart flipped. 

It hadn't been a question. 

Taking a few more steps, he approached her - until he was only 2 feet away. "Yeah," he replied, just as quietly. His eyes didn't leave her face, even as she closed her eyes, as if his short reply confirmed everything, and the weight of the situation sank onto her shoulders. 

She cro