Fraya
I wake up before the sun rises, looking down at Donahue as he sleeps. I take in his dark hair, yearning to wipe it out of his eyes, but I don't dare touch him more than I already am. His one arm is under my head while the other is wrapped around my waist and I marvel at the strength in them. I wish I could stay here all day and just watch him, run my fingers over every beautiful scar. I wish I could look into his ever changing eyes, see what will trigger them and what would calm him. I wish for more time, but I know that isn't a possibility, not if I wake him up and let him out of this bed. I saw it in his eyes last night, and heard it in his words. He has accepted that he won't be making it out of the war alive and I cannot accept that. I won't let him onto the battlefield when he
