⚠️WARNING: Depiction of blood, injuries and swearing (it's war duh)

(Y/N) POV:

When you appeared in the trench, a few minutes ago, it was dead silent. No one in sight. But now, the trenches were as loud as ever. Sounds of gunshots, screams and explosions filled the place. As you ran through the thin corridors you had to avoid plenty of other soldiers running the other way, but you didn't look away from your objective.

At some point, you finally saw the painted red cross of the infirmary ahead of you. You sped up to reach it and almost tore apart the curtain when you ran in. However disappointment hit you at full speed when you saw it was empty. All mattresses were all over the place but there was no sign of Christoph nor Berthold.

-"Guys!" You called out hopelessly as you kinda messed the infirmary up, as if a grown man could hide beneath a tiny pot. You huffed in frustration before running out again into the muddy hell. It was early morning and now it even started raining, making the running even more complicated as puddles and mud kept splattering around, the ground more slippery than a wet alley in a store.

-"Berthold! Christoph!" You yelled out while running, hoping to get an answer. Suddenly you stopped abruptly, you thought you had heard something, a small call in reply to yours. That's when you heard it. Further away, muffled by the rain and the ruckus of every soldier running for their lives, you heard again that familiar voice. You followed it immediately.

If you had run that fast during your PE test, you definitely would have gotten all marks. Some German soldiers that passed by recognised you as the one they were requested to bring to safety. Like a robot, his arm suddenly grabbed you. However your temper was as such right now that you harshly kicked him in the leg and yelled.

-"Get the fuck away from me!" Somehow that disturbed him enough to momentarily let go, frightened by that hybrid behaviour of a human and a chihuahua. Apparently that's what you turn into when overwhelmed by frustration. You used that slip-up of a few seconds to quickly get away. 'Those mindless soldiers are creepy as heck', You thought. 'If German Empire somehow wants to see me, let him do the walking!'

You followed the sound of Berthold's voice, until you reached a part of the trench which had partly collapsed, planks, bags of sand and dirt blocking the way. But your friends were definitely calling from here.

-"Berthold! Christoph! Are any of you there?" You shouted as you grabbed onto one of the planks which blocked the path. The adrenaline made you picking it up faster than you'd have to usually. However you felt relieved the moment you heard Berthold responding.

-"(Y/N)! Yes, We're here!" You felt both relieved and worried at the sound of his voice. He sounded very hurt.

-"Is Christoph with you?"

-"Yes he is! But he needs help!" Berthold shouted back, worrying you more as you quickened your work of freeing the way. It was easy to move the planks which had fallen but the bags of sand were being soaked by the rain, making them way heavier to lift.

-"We BOTH need help idiot!" You heard Christoph yell at Berthold. Despite their bickering they sounded very hurt. Christoph also sounded like he had been crying. You made sure to be careful not to make the remaining trench collapse completely onto your friends. Meanwhile you could hear them arguing. 'Really now? Better they do that than dying I guess.'

-"Can you stop pulling off that manly «I never get hurt» facade??"

-"I'm just telling them about your condition!!"

-"Well worry about yourself !"

-"UGH!! Don't start again with this!"

-"Shut up!"

-"You shut up!"

-"No, you-" They were interrupted as you finally pushed away the final plank which made it easy for you to sneak towards them. You saw they were laying on the ground, their stomach completely stuck in the mud. The two grown soldiers blinked up at you like two kids who had been caught staying up late after curfew.

-"Uhm, hey (Y/N)..." Christoph mumbles sheepishly. You couldn't help but let out a breath of relief at the sight of them, however you couldn't say they were fine. The mud in which they were furred up had been tainted by blood and Christoph's injuries had reopened. Berthold also looked hurt, as if he had been scraped everywhere around his body.

-"What happened?" You asked as you quickly hurried to their sides in worry. Berthold coughed and you felt horrified to see blood. He was more severely injured than you'd think. Christoph glanced at him with a frown before looking at you sadly. You met his gaze with a frown of your own.

-"What's-"

-"He got shot.

-"WHAT?!"

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

[An hour ago]
(yes I'm random like that)

Diary, daily entry.

«It's been two days since (Y/N) had yet to appear again. According to them, they were meeting us every night once they fell asleep, yet from our perspective, we always have to wait a few days before we get the opportunity to see them again, at any time of the day.

New soldiers keep coming in the trenches everyday. He is getting impatient, His orders aren't followed. Apparently the rumours about 'the Angel of the Trenches' have spread out to even reach the headquarters, and now He just wants to get His hands on (Y/N).

No one knows the exact reason, but everyone suspects it'll be nothing good. Maybe He'll just eliminate what seems to be an anomaly. Fortunately, every soldier who gets here has been affected by the '(Y/N) effect'. Having gained self-awareness led to people not following the executive orders of delivering them to Berlin.

I may also have a play in this but a bit of intimidation never hurt anyone, right? Nevermind. I sense that some older soldiers look forward to me taking my leave so they could proceed with His orders. The '(Y/N) effect' only made their attachments to obey the countryhuman stronger for some reason.

But jokes on them, I'm not intending to take my leave any time soon. It may be only 8 days a year, but if (Y/N)'s safety depends on it, I couldn't care less. It's not like I had anyone waiting for me... Unlike Christoph, he's the one most deserving of a leave, yet he isn't allowed to take it since he-»

-"Retreat! Retreat!" Berthold immediately stopped writing as one of his fellow soldiers entered the trench. He was shouting in panic while gesturing behind him.

-"The French managed to sneak in! Retreat to the other trenches!" The man ordered and disappeared into the dirty corridors while running. Hell broke loose in the trench. Everyone quickly grabbed their rifle and started to follow the soldier who had screamed the orders. Berthold also rushed this way, not before securing his diary in his vest.

The orders were clear, he ran by instinct, following the voice in his head telling him exactly what to do. The previous order about bringing (Y/N) to the higher-ups was also echoing in his head, yet he was determined enough not to fall for it.

As he ran past an injured soldier, he stopped immediately. He looked at the soldier on the ground with wide eyes, realisation and reminiscence settling in. The soldier, hopeful that Berthold was going to help him, reached his arm out. However Berthold just started running the other way, leaving the poor soldier to his fate.

-"Shit! Christoph!" He exclaimed. The sight of the injured soldier reminded Berthold of his own wounded friend. His will power pushed aside the declared order of retreating for the moment and turned heels to the other soldiers. Christoph wasn't able to walk yet and he would most likely be killed any second now.

Too much innocent lives have already been taken. Berthold didn't want Christoph to be the next on the list, he had everything to live a good life of his own, he was married, he had a daughter. Berthold didn't have anything to live for. It would be unfair for him to live and Christoph to die.

Fortunately Berthold didn't meet any enemy soldier when running to the infirmary. He saw that every nurse has evacuated, leaving the injured ones behind. Berthold frowned but he didn't have time to be bitter about it, he approached Christoph's bed. He could see a curled up form beneath the sheets.

When Berthold reached out towards the sheets, he heard a clicking sound and he saw the end of a rifle aimed at him, poking out from beneath the sheets. He blinked down at it, his face suddenly paling as he jumped back, yelling.

-"CHRISTOPH WHAT THE HELL!?" He shouted in panic with a voice a bit more high-pitched than he'd like to admit. Recognising his friend's voice, Christoph lifted the sheets off himself, his light hair was a bit messy and his sheepish face made him look like a child. A child with a rifle.

-"Berthold? What are you doing here?" He whisper-shouted, looking around in worry in case a french soldier would suddenly come out of the curtains. Berthold scoffed as he tried to calm down from his fright.

-"To save you, you idiot! Haven't you got the order? We have to retreat!" He said as he approached Christoph's bed. The young man's legs were still wrapped in bandages, unable to move. Christoph looked down in sadness.

-"I got it. But I can't retreat. I can't even walk. The procedure's clear. If we can't obey orders, we're left behind." Berthold grumbled at Christoph's lamentation.

-"Well...fuck the procedure." He mumbles under his breath, but Christoph heard him and looked at him in shock. That simple sentence could be considered as treason and could cost Berthold his death.

-"What?"

-"I said, Fuck the procedure!" Berthold exclaimed as he stomped closer and forcefully sat Christoph up, holding his shoulders while glaring at him.

-"And fuck the Countryhuman himself along the way! He doesn't even suffer the ounce of pain we had to endure! And he's the one dictating things? He never did anything for us! We're just pawns for him!" Berthold huffed. He shook the younger man as if to accentuate his words.

-"Since I met (Y/N) we finally got control over our own lives. And what I want to do is to fuck him up as much as I can for everything he did to us! You! You're a disabled soldier, you're still alive to consume his resources but not well enough to fight for him. In other words, you're a nuisance to him! So obviously I'll keep you alive!"

He exclaimed with enthusiasm and suddenly carried Christoph's body over his shoulder despite the latter's protests. Soldiers didn't eat much and Berthold hadn't taken any breaks from the trenches so he easily had the strength to carry Christoph's light body.

-"I hate you..." Christoph mumbles as he felt humiliated while Berthold carried him out of the infirmary like a potato sack. It wasn't very 'manly' of him to be held like a damsel, even though his life was on the line. However, it was useful since Christoph could see behind Berthold so he could easily warn him when he spotted soldiers.

-"Zone's clear?" Berthold asked as he kept running with Christoph on his shoulder. Christoph grunted as his legs still hurt and he had trouble focusing with Berthold's rough running. However he suddenly widened his eyes and started urging Berthold.

-"I can recognise those stinky flashy blue and red uniforms anywhere! Quick! They're catching up!" He shouted, giving kicks in Berthold's side despite the pain in his legs, as if Berthold was some sort of horse.

-"Just stay still goddamn it! I don't go any faster with all your squirming!" Berthold exclaimed, struggling to keep his hold onto Christoph while still trying to fasten his pace. The sounds of the French approaching resonated in his ears, raising his stress, making his heartbeat skyrock and making his revolve crumble.

When he thought nothing could get worse, a gunshot resonated in the trenches, and he felt a gushing pain, worse than anything he's ever felt, as his leg felt like it caught on fire. He dropped to the ground and his hold on Christoph crumbled, a scream of pain reached his ears and his brain was such a mess he didn't notice it was his at first.

The two collapsed in the mud. And unfortunately, or fortunately for them, as if it wasn't enough, they heard wood cracking and the planks holding the trench together broke around them and bags of sand fell down too, blocking them to their fate.

-"Argh.....Fuck..." Berthold cursed through gritted teeth, trying everything he could not to cry pitifully. He felt like his body was burning, the flag on his cheek was aching, as if it was another wound of its own. He looked at Christoph, wanting to pay attention to everything but his own injuries. The pain was already excruciating, and he knew if he caught sight of the state his legs were in he would faint on the spot.

-"Christoph... Are you-"

-"Don't. Don't even speak to me!" Christoph replied back sharply, exhausted and out of breath. Despite being injured Berthold was tempted to say a snarky comment about how he was the one running and not Christoph, when seeing how spent he looked, but he figured it was best if he didn't.

Out of the corner of his eye, Berthold could see Christoph's former injuries which had been previously stitched and healing had been reopened and were now gushing out blood. It looked ugly, and it motivated Berthold more not to look at his own injuries. Through months of being in this hell you'd think he'd be used to this but guess not. What Berthold was really NOT used to see, was the angered expression on Christoph's face.

-"What-"

-"SHUT UP!" Berthold flinched and he quickly realised from the voice break that Christoph was sobbing both from anger and desperation. Berthold sighed, understanding his anger.

-"Christoph. You know that even if I didn't try to get you back, that I didn't bring you with me, you would still be done for. Your injuries-"

-"I know perfectly well what my fate was! I knew it the moment they announced the invasion! I knew it the moment I got wounded weeks ago! I already sent my prayers to my family. I knew I was done for! Every nurse, every soldier around here already considered me done for! NO! That's all on you!"

-"What the fuck did I do? I tried to save your life and that's how you repay me?!" Berthold yelled back, feeling himself get angry too. Christoph kept furiously shaking his head and his useless limbs around the dirt as if he wanted to do a bloody snow angel in the mud. He looked quite pathetic.

-"Who cares about my life! Don't you listen? I was already done for! You said it yourself! But instead of playing the hero you could have saved yourself! Why didn't you just obey!?" Christoph crawled out towards him but Berthold gave him a violent kick in the face with his leg that wasn't shot. Pain was still screaming in both of their systems and their minds were numb, overwhelming them.

-"I was tired of obeying! I knew that even saving my life cowardly would please Him, and I preferred to DIE over that!"

-"So you didn't save me out of kindness?"

-"FUCK YOU! What reply do you want from me?! I said I wanted to save you because I didn't want you to die and you flip me off, so I use another argument and you flip me off too!"

-"Go die."

-"I'm on the way." Berthold said bitterly. Christoph frowned, staying silent. Their shouting resonating in eachother's ears. They were both looking horrible. Christoph's face was full of mud and blood, both from falling straight into it and from receiving a kick in the face. Berthold didn't look any better.

-"I just can't understand. You could have saved yourself and forget me. That's what we're expected to do." Christoph mumbles quietly, the exhaustion catching off them. They were bound to die slowly and painfully. Berthold sighed and looked away as he was finally crying. 'Men don't cry.' He told himself. Was he really that pathetic?

Those past few weeks some soldiers always cried around him. He considered them weak and pathetic. Were they really the country's pride? Yet (Y/N) always told him otherwise. When a soldier cried they would tell him to let it out, not to be ashamed. 'Men can cry too. We're all humans and humans cry.' They would say, but Berthold never bulged. It's how he was taught. But now, Berthold understood. In some way, it felt good to cry.

-"No one says that, later on, I'll still get out alive." Berthold replied as he looked at Christoph then back at the sky.

-"And if I did, I'd feel guilty for all my remaining days. I... I wanted to do something I'd be proud of for once. (Y/N) made us better people without realising. I wanted to show them that they did." He continued, feeling his chest lighter now that he admitted it, or was it because his chest was actually getting lighter because of the blood loss.

Christoph looked at Berthold sadly, his gaze softened as he realised the slightly older soldier was still the same as him, despite their opposite personalities or personal lives.

-"I'm sure they already know..." He mumbles. He felt like his eyelids wanted to close themselves but he stopped them from doing so. He wasn't going to give up. But he was still terrified.

-"Are... Are we actually gonna die?" He asked weakly, crying some more. Berthold looked at him. Despite everything, Christoph was still naive, still innocent. He always seek peace, that's the reason why he was forbidden to see his family again. Now he'll die before he could ever experience to hold his daughter for the first time. No... Berthold didn't believe it. He managed a hurt smile.

-"No. No we won't. We have God's blessing, remember? He sent (Y/N) as a proof, he sent his kindest angel to us, to console us during the toughest times. He did so because we never gave up. Now isn't the time to start."

Berthold tried to reassure Christoph. His voice was rough and hoarse but his words came from the remaining purity of his heart, where his hope resided. Christoph who was looking at him as he spoke smiled. He didn't have as much hope as Berthold, but he figured If he died there... Next to his friend... It wouldn't be so bad. At least he wasn't burned alive or intoxicated.

Berthold however held onto his hope, and started calling out in the trench for help. No matter who could hear him. He kept breaking his voice while calling out for help, until his calls were noticed and heard by a very distressed angel...

-"Berthold! Christoph! Are any of you there?"