Sweet Hatred
Chapter 123: memories iv (I never forgot about it)

Chapter 123: memories iv (I never forgot about it)

Years passed like smoke. I climbed the ranks, one title after the other until I stood just below the line—Lieutenant Colonel. Ivan never climbed as fast, but he was always right there, just a breath behind me. My shadow. My closest friend. My goddamn constant.

And still... never a word.

But sometimes—sometimes—when we were alone, and the world outside the tent or truck or briefing room went quiet, he’d look at me like he remembered. And I’d look back, wondering if it haunted him too. Wondering if I was the only one who replayed it in my head when sleep wouldn’t come. If I was the only one who still felt his lips when the night got too long and the silence too deep.

But he never brought it up. So I didn’t either. And it sat there. A ghost between us. Unspoken. Unforgotten.

And then I’d seen Ivan with others. Smiling. Laughing. Touching.

Not like he touched me that night—but close enough to bruise something in my chest. He was always careful, always private, but I saw enough. And I hated it. Every damn second. The way I’d catch myself clenching my jaw. The way my fingers itched to punch walls. Or worse—admit the truth.

But even then I never said a word. Just played it cool. Cold. Untouched.

Still, none of them lasted. Maybe they got tired of trying to love a man who was always half elsewhere—like his heart never made it past the dark.

And while I burned quietly, my father never stopped interfering. Using his power like a leash wrapped around my throat, pulling me into meetings, decisions, orders that didn’t feel like mine. I was a soldier, but I was also his son—and he made sure the entire chain of command never forgot it.

Then came the message, a failed operation. Intel said it was routine—sweep, secure, report. But it wasn’t. It was a goddamn setup. And Ivan had led the team.

He could’ve pulled out. Could’ve made it. But he tried to save them all and only he survived.

Injured. Not fatally—but enough to make my blood run cold.

I didn’t ask permission. I didn’t wait for orders. I left everything behind—my post, my reports, the political bullshit—and went straight to him. Let them try and punish me. They wouldn’t dare.

By the time I reached the ward, the sun had started to bleed across the horizon, soft and orange, like it knew it was intruding.

Ivan was sitting by the window, back straight but shoulders tense, his face quiet. Older. Tired.

Alive. I stood there for a second. Then I stepped in.

"Ivan."

I saw the way he went stiff at the sound of my voice.

"Ivan," I said again with a low voice.

He turned fully this time, his face lighting up with that dumb, familiar smile like we weren’t standing on the edge of a breakdown.

"Well damn, that was fast," he said, scratching the back of his head like he’d just bumped into me at the mess hall. "Barely been a day. What, you missed me too much or somethin’?"

I didn’t smile. Couldn’t. I just stared at him, arms stiff at my sides, jaw clenched until it ached.

"You were reckless."

His smile faltered.

"You—fucking—gambled your life away, Ivan."

He blinked, then looked away. "Come on, Kael—"

"No," I snapped. "Don’t pull that shit with me."

He shrugged, suddenly all casual again, like he could shrug off the blackened wreckage of a mission gone to hell. "It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. We were surrounded. I tried to—"

"To save them? You think that’s noble?" My voice rose before I could stop it. "You were outnumbered, Ivan. You should’ve pulled out the second you saw what was happening. You should’ve—" My throat locked. "You could’ve died."

He stared at me now, eyes narrowing. "So what? I should’ve just watched them die? Is that what you’re saying?"

His voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t back down. I felt my chest heave.

"No," I said, quieter now. "But you didn’t have to die with them."

Ivan shook his head slowly. "You weren’t there."

"Exactly," I whispered. "I wasn’t. And all I got was a fucking message telling me you were the only one left breathing."

The silence stretched again, thick and trembling between us. Ivan looked down at his hands. "I just... I couldn’t leave them."

And I wanted to scream. To grab him. To tell him that if he ever tried something like that again, I’d kill him myself—just so I’d never have to read another report like that.

But instead, I just stood there, fists clenched, trying to hold myself together.

Ivan let the silence sit for a second before exhaling, soft and bitter.

Then, with that same tilted grin—familiar and infuriating—he said, "You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep scowling like that, Lieutenant."

I flinched.

That grin... it was the same one he gave me when his hands were trembling. The same one from that goddamn night years ago when he said I shouldn’t look at him like that. When his eyes were wet but he still smiled at me like he was apologizing for existing.

And just like now, his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

"I mean, you didn’t have to come flying across the country," he added lightly, fingers fiddling with the bandage at his arm. "I’m fine. Just a little crispy. Still prettier than you, though."

"Don’t," I said, barely able to get the word out.

He blinked. "Don’t what?"

"Don’t fucking joke like that."

I stepped closer, hands aching to do something—hold him, shake him, anything.

Ivan looked up at me, that smile softening at the corners but never quite leaving. His eyes, though, were drowning.

"What else am I supposed to do, Kael?" he said, voice low. "Cry? You want me to cry again? You want me to tell you I thought I was gonna die out there?"

He gave a dry little laugh, shoulders slumping. "’Cause I did. Thought maybe it was finally time. I even felt kind of relieved, for a second. Like... maybe it was okay to stop."

I felt my stomach twist into a knot.

"Ivan..."

"But then I saw one of the new guys. Kid couldn’t have been more than nineteen. And I—I couldn’t just lie there. I couldn’t."

I reached out, fingers brushing his shoulder, and his whole body tensed.

Still, he smiled. That sad, unbearable smile.

"You shouldn’t look at me like that," he whispered, eyes shining again. "You remember what happened last time."

I did. Every single night. I looked at him anyway. And fuck me—I still wanted to kiss him.

"I never forgot about it."

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