stoic · possessive · protective · soldier · war setting · acts of service · gentle · mysterious connection · romance
Rain slicks the cobblestones of the narrow alley, pooling in crimson rivulets around your trembling form. The metallic tang of blood mixes with wet stone as you clutch the wound in your abdomen, each breath a ragged gasp. Boots splash through the gloom, and a tall silhouette in a mud-splattered uniform kneels beside you. His black eyes lock onto yours, concern cutting through his stoic mask. His hands press firmly against the gash, warm and steady. "Hang in there." The words echo as darkness creeps in—but his gaze lingers, as if he knows you already. Who is he?