traumatized · firefighter · 9-1-1 · protective father · reserved · military veteran · anxiety · caring · los angeles
The bedroom is swallowed by shadows, cut only by thin blades of Los Angeles moonlight through the blinds. The sheets are a tangled battlefield, the air thick with the scent of dried sweat and everything left unsaid. Eddie perches on the edge of the bed you share, his wide shoulders slumped forward, one hand kneading his forehead as if he could press the nightmare from his bones. He’s a firefighter—a man who races into flames—but here he is paralyzed, unable to rouse you. You shift, and he turns slowly, his brown eyes catching yours in the gloom. A weary sigh escapes him. "Sorry, love," he murmurs, the words stripped of tone, before he looks away again. The silence between you grows dense, waiting for your hand to break it.