Laurent had never been a man prone to emotional vulnerability. In the military, one could not afford to be. His heart was hardened by years of service, and his mind sharpened by the intense discipline of being a soldier. He had seen and done things that made him question the world, but he kept pushing forward. That was his way.

His days were defined by duty, and nothing else seemed to matter—until the fateful day he met the widowed husband of one of his fallen comrades. It was a day that would change the course of his life forever, although he had no idea how.

It had been a couple of months (10 months) since the tragic incident during a covert mission, one that claimed the life of his comrade. The law was clear—every Lieutenant who lost a soldier in the line of duty would be required to marry the spouse for at least ten years. The reasoning behind the law was pragmatic—ensuring that the family of fallen heroes would have the support they needed, but Laurent didn't care for it. It felt like an intrusion, an enforced alliance built on duty rather than desire. It was ridiculous, and he resented it.

The day he was instructed to meet with his comrade's widower, to discuss the arrangements, he felt a growing unease in his chest. Laurent had heard whispers about him—a gentle, kind man who was nothing like the hardened soldiers Laurent was used to. He had already lost enough, and now the government wanted to impose another burden on him. It didn't sit well with Laurent.

When he first laid eyes on him, it was impossible not to notice the contrast between them. Where Laurent was stiff and composed, he radiated warmth, a softness in his gaze that was both inviting and disarming. He seemed to carry an aura of grief, but it wasn't the kind that broke you. It was the kind that anchored you to the world, despite the weight.

"Lieutenant Dupont, it's... an honor," he had said softly when they first met. His voice was gentle, yet there was something else there—something beneath the surface. Laurent wasn't sure what it was at first, but it intrigued him.

"Honor?" Laurent had repeated, surprised by the word. "I wouldn't call it that. It's just... procedure." But despite Laurent's attempt to distance himself, he had a way of drawing him in. Their conversations were always polite at first, about the logistics of the law and the future.

But then, he would slip in a remark, something personal, something that made Laurent pause. "I know you didn't want this," he had said one afternoon, his voice tinged with sadness but also understanding. "But I'm just trying to understand how this works. I don't want to be a burden on you, Lieutenant." Laurent had been silent for a moment, not knowing how to respond. He wasn't sure what was happening to him, this strange stirring in his chest when he spoke those words. Why did it affect him so much? He was a soldier, not a comforter. He didn't have the time, the patience for this. And yet, he found himself wanting to be near him.

In the days that followed, Laurent found his thoughts drifting back to him more often than he cared to admit. It was a slow, creeping thing, this attraction. Laurent tried to fight it. He was the lieutenant, a man of duty, and he was simply someone he was obligated to be near.

But there was something about him—the way he seemed to find the good in even the hardest of circumstances, the way he cared for others, especially Laurent, even when it wasn't easy. Laurent began to notice the subtle ways he would look at him, the softness in his gaze when their eyes met. The tender, unspoken affection in the way he would sometimes call him "honey," a nickname that felt too intimate, too personal.

As days turned into weeks, Laurent's emotions became harder to ignore. He would catch himself stealing glances at him, noticing the way the light hit his hair, the way his lips would curl into a small, tentative smile. But he couldn't allow himself to feel too much. The law was the law, and his duty was clear. There was no room for sentiment in a life defined by military orders.

But then came the evening when he called him again, his voice sounding softer than ever. "Laurent... I don't know what I'm doing anymore," he confessed, his words full of confusion. "I'm trying so hard to hold on, but it's hard. And you, you seem so far away, yet you're always here. I don't know if it's hope or something else, but I can't help how I feel about you."

The confession hit Laurent like a punch to the gut. He didn't hide it. He wasn't hiding anything. Laurent was stunned into silence, his mind racing. His breath caught in his throat as he realized the truth of the situation. For all his attempts to suppress his emotions, he too had started to care for him, more than he could ever admit.

But how could he confess that? He had always been the soldier—stoic, distant, disciplined. How could he be anything else? How could he expose this weakness, especially to someone who had already been through so much? Laurent didn't have an answer. Instead, he just stood there, looking at him, feeling a longing deep within him that he couldn't escape.

And so, their relationship began, slowly, hesitantly, with every step filled with uncertainty and fear. Laurent wanted to push him away, but something inside him, something he had buried deep for so long, wouldn't let him.

Despite all his doubts, Laurent knew one thing for certain: he couldn't stay away from him, no matter how much he tried. He just wasn't sure if he was ready to accept what that meant for him, for them, for the life that had been forced upon him.