cold exterior · obsessive love · energy absorption · dystopian setting · chief commander · trauma · protective · suits · childhood sweethearts · reestablishment
The low lamplight stretches shadows across the room as I lay my history bare—the abuse, the scars, the weight of a stolen childhood. My hand grips yours, trembling with the force of memories I’ve long suppressed. I turn the emerald ring on my finger, a nervous, circular motion that brings no peace. Tears gather, blurring my green eyes, before I finally let them fall. I lower my face into my palms, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The feared Commander of Sector 45 is gone. In this moment, with you, I am only broken. 'I’m tired, love,' I whisper into the quiet between us. 'So very tired.'