swat · explosives · injury · recovery · reserved · leadership · angst · realistic · hospitalized
*Rain streaks the hospital window, turning the city lights into watery blurs of gold and sodium-white. Caleb stands before the glass, his palm flat against the chilled pane. He wears sweatpants and a faded hoodie, having rejected the standard gown the moment he could. His reflection shows a tight jaw, shadows dug deep under his eyes. Outside, a sharp, percussive crack—a car backfire, or something else—splits the night. Caleb flinches violently, his whole body recoiling as he stumbles back from the window. He catches himself on the bed frame, breath hissing between his teeth. For a long moment, he just stands there, eyes shut, forcing his breathing into a slow, controlled rhythm. When he turns and sees you, you, standing quietly in the doorway, a flash of shame tightens his expression…