Makin' Plans (hbo war imagines)

10. Bill "Hoosier" Smith; Good Luck Kisses

Foolishly, you had allowed yourself to be wooed. Bill—you couldn't call him Hoosier after you got together—had made it so easy to say yes to him. He'd flirted through boot camp, and when he finally asked you on a proper date, you relented.

He's cute, you had reasoned to yourself, and at least I know he'll understand me coming out of this.

If you were being honest, however, you didn't need to convince yourself. You had fallen for him just as quickly.

On the boat that carried you across the Pacific Ocean, he caught you off guard with a casual kiss, when the guys weren't paying attention of course.

You smiled as it ended. "What was that for?"

"Good luck."

And it stuck. Before every long day or night of battle, one of you took the initiative to plant a quick kiss on the other.

By the time you got a breather in Melbourne, you weren't sure that the kiss was worth much luck. Sure you both came out mostly unscathed, but how many had closed their eyes for the last time in front of you? How many more would you see?

You loved Bill. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, He was the man you wanted to spend the remainder of your life with. But what if... what would happen if you had to watch him die? Or he had to watch you... You couldn't bear the thought.

And it slowly ate at you. You couldn't sit with him for very long before those thoughts made their rounds again, so you started spending more and more time away from your boyfriend, who was growing more and confused by your actions every day.

He was the type to notice but never to bring it up. Offering emotional support had never been his strong suit, but he wanted you back. It seemed like you wanted less and less to do with him. He'd let you do what you wanted. Who was he to keep you tethered like a dog?

Eventually, you had gone more than a week without speaking directly to him. Physical contact was almost out of the question.

Had anyone asked, you wouldn't be able to explain your thought process. In this environment, this situation, who could?
__________

Your legs gave out, and you found yourself in searing pain, lying on the ground. You hoped to God—if He was still there—that this would be it for you. Please! you silently begged. Let this be my last breath.

Bill's smiling face flashed across your eyelids. For a moment, you forgot why you wanted to die so much. For a moment, you could see a future together. Meals together at a real table. Dancing in the living room in the yellow light of a couple dim lamps. Just for a second, you wanted to keep going.

Then you opened your eyes, and while your sight took a second to readjust, everything was already too much. Despite the ringing in your ears, it was loud. Artillery fire from both sides drove through your head. The sun shone a little harsher in the South Pacific, and your eyes felt overwhelmed at the bright light.

And Bill's face appeared again, but this time, it was dirty and angry.

"Y/N, what happened?" He knelt down beside where you had fallen and visually scanned you for any more obvious afflictions, aside from your leg. "How long have you been here? Why didn't you call for a medic?"

Through gritted teeth, you answered, "Don't need one. If I die-"

The concern on his face quickly hardened into anger. "You're not dying." He turned, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Corpsman!" He called a couple more times before looking at the bloodied mess that was your leg. "You can't die."

Nothing made sense right now. You wanted all of this to end. It was like a nightmare, but nothing like you had ever imagined. "I can't live, Hoose." It came out as softly as you could manage. "Not with this."

He just shook his head and screamed for the medic again before reaching out and pushing your hair back from your forehead. "I'll be damned if I let you die like this. I don't know what goes through that pretty head of yours, but I can't let that happen."

It was like you had let go of a breath you'd been holding for too long.

The corpsman came running upon spotting you two. As he got to you, you blinked and reached for Bill's hand.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

He shook his head. "Don't be sorry. Just focus on getting better." He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. "For good luck."

And this time, you knew that it was good luck. You would go to a hospital, heal, and spend the rest of your days with the love of your life. You believed it so much it happened.

Another tumblr request! We love some Hoosier angst. M'kay.

~Mariah