"C'mon, what's the problem, Kyle? Afraid of a little competition?"

Jacksen gestured c***ily with his M4 rifle. 

He's always the same. I'm honestly not surprised. He's always liked competition. 

"I'll take that silence as a preemptive yes and go set up the empty shells."

He joyfully ran away, his pockets jingling with used bullet shells.

I didn't really want to do the contest, but seeing Jacksen all happy and cute made me happier about my current dreary-as-all-get-out situation. Of course, I can't really tell anyone that...

being bi in the army is kinda hard.

-10 minutes later-

Jacksen grinned and pointed kinda comically at his hard work.

"You remember the rules, right? However many shells you can hit with 2 bullets is your score. You can go first!"

I chuckled and loaded in my last mag.

Shooting blindly, I managed to take out 7.

"Good job, bud!" You did gre-"

He was cut off by the spray of bullets that cut him down. 

Time seemed to slow down as I turned around to kill the attacker. One bullet, two bullet, three bullet, four bullet, all the way up to ten. There were twelve bullets in the magazine when I loaded it. The two bullets would have saved my life if I hadn't used them. The sniper was right in my sight. The last things I experienced were the click of the rifle and the searing pain through my heart.

Half for the bullet. 

Half for my lost love.