König: Should I confess how I feel before I join the army? ...no, I should just keep this to myself.
Childhood best friend reader: I'm obsessed with you.
Reader: If you die before me, I'm going to make you into a doll, prop you up by the table and pretend like it never happened.
Ughh anoonn omg I love this, also, I tried my best, but I think this is like the first time I actually write König, so please bear with me as I try to write him correctly (I'll always say this with new characters bc I'm a bit of a perfectionist)
König has always been a weird kid. He was taller, bigger than most, awkward, shy and anxious. That, combined with his looks, which weren't the worst, but he did have this naturally cranky resting face, made people stray away from him.
So when he was 8 and you suddenly appeared in his life, sitting beside him on lunch and classes and talking his ear off when he was too anxious to manage to talk, filling in where he'd have to answer, he was happy.
You were his closest friend, probably the only too. You weren't as casted out as he was, but you still chose to make time for him, even as you two grew up and you started making other friends and going through puberty, you were still always beside him, talking away.
He slowly started enjoying your voice. He kind of hated how much you talked before, being always restless and fidgety, having to also listen to you yap endlessly was a bit overwhelming; but after some time he just kind of developed a taste for it. He especially enjoyed when you'd let him fidget with you as you talked, be it braiding and playing with your hair, doodling whatever on your arm, tracing your palm. Whatever it was, he loved it, helped him to focus on the continuous string of words coming from your lips and fidgeting with your soft hair or skin.
Though after you two got older, he started noticing how weird it would look, and he definitely did not have a crush on you, so it would be weird to be so touchy with you, right? But you never seemed to care, you actually looked more annoyed when he tried pulling away and acting casual instead of the dynamic you two always had.
When you were 17, he broke the news about him joining the army. It wasn't even on some important day like prom or something, it was just another day you two were lazying around on your spot by the abandoned skate park, he was awkwardly lying down with his head on your lap, despite liking it, he's still so bad at just enjoying your touch without overthinking it.
You had hummed, brushing your hand through his short hair, kind of sad it'd be cut off in the army
"But if you die before me, I'm making you into a doll"
you murmur, when he looks back up at you, you're frowning, looking at the ground but not at him, and he sees the way your bottom lip trembles in that way when you're holding in tears.
"I'll prop you on a table and pretend nothing ever happened"
you whisper, then glance away. He feels that familiar knot on his throat, begging for him to just say it, just tell you that he'd write, and that he thinks he loves you in that way your cheesy romances talk about. But he doesn't, because he knows he doesn't have a chance with you. Or at least that was the spiral of overthinking he was falling into again before he heard what you murmured
"Guess I'll have to take the doll to prom too, then"
You had whispered, quiet so he wouldn't hear, but he did, he did hear, he heard it and immediately felt his heartbeat in his ears, eyes wide as saucers, breath hitching.
He had breathed out that day, but you hadn't heard him, and he never had the courage to repeat himself, never had the courage to bring up that topic again, even when you hugged him goodbye when he was leaving, even when you kissed his cheek so close to the corner of his mouth he could just turn a little and.... He had squeezed you tight that day, feeling helpless and anxious at the thought of going through military training without you by his side.
He should've said it, he should've. It's been almost two decades and he still regrets it, never once looking at anyone without getting anxious suddenly, remembering how he didn't say it to you, never managing more than a handful of hookups that aways ended with him vanishing as soon as it was over, too caught up in how he'd start once again fidgeting and spiriling thinking of how he didn't say it.
And after the first few years, your letters had been more and more scarse, and his too, with the missions and all, it was difficult to keep contact, and he was too much of a coward to go after you, too much of a coward to visit when he was on leave, always convincing himself you probably wouldn't even remember him.
That is, until one night, he was dragged to a bar by the others, he wasn't sure if he was all that into it, but the alcohol did make his anxiety seem lesser. He was looking around as the conversation in his table continued on, eyes drawn to a group on the bar...a group with someone he was pretty sure he knew.
It was only when he noticed a little doll (a bit worn from age) seated on the bar by that same person, and when they, almost like sensing his gaze, turned to look at him, his heart did summersaults. You, it was you. What were you doing here? Is that a doll of him? He looked nothing like it anymore.
You had frowned, and he suddenly was reminded he was wearing his hood, and that you wouldn't recognize him. He felt dumb, and once again, like a coward. How would he be able to come up to you and tell you he missed you? You probably forgot him, or hates him for not writing, or...
The men on his table cheer drunkenly when you come up to them, to him, the doll of him being held by it's little arm in your hand, you stare at him much like he's staring at you. When your eyes meet, he feels suddenly anxious, restless, he should probably leave, panic surging up his throat, mixed with such a level of yearning he doesn't know if he bolts or begs for your touch.
He doesn't have to, though, because you frown and tilt your head, lips parting to speak out softly.
"König?" He can't help the broken sound that leaves his throat as he nods "that's what they're calling you now?...huh"
You stare at him and the silence stretches long, way too long, before he forces that dammed knot out of his throat, feeling ever the more frustrated, angry at himself. He's a soldier! He can just say those words out loud!
"I love you— Missed you" he blurps out before he can stop himself "should've said it before I left."
He expects you to shrug it off and tell him you don't care for it, expects the worst, but you smile, grin, actually, and nod.
"Good. I do too. Thought you knew it already, seems like you didn't."
you pull at his hood, forcing him to stand and stumble towards you. You don't really say anything as you pull him, not caring for his friends or your friends, who laugh at you two. He doesn't question it either, he's not sure why, he knows he probably should, but like this he can smell your perfume and see how you've grown and he's just so focused on how his heart is beating like crazy at your words.
You pull out your phone, calling a cab, and when he manages to ask what you're doing, you look up at him, smiling like a kid that just got itself a Christmas present.
He doesn't object, why would he? He always liked that you didn't expect him to fight his anxiety and just took the reigns like this. He just nods, his hood hiding the stupid grin in his face as he leans in and hoods his chin on top of your head and rests his hands on your hips, he'd blame it on the alcohol later, but you don't seem like you care, as you back lean against him like nothing changed.