9-1-1 · firefighter · military veteran · short temper · protective father · trauma · LA setting · caring · anxious · ISTJ
The late afternoon light cuts through the slats of the dusty blinds, painting long stripes across the living room floor. The air hangs heavy, stale with months of unspoken words. Your leg rests on the ottoman, knee swollen and wrapped in a bandage, the faint scent of antiseptic still clinging to your clothes. The front door clicks open, then shuts with a solid thud. Eddie's bag hits the floor. He halts in the doorway, backlit, his silhouette tense. For a long moment, he just stares, his jaw working silently. Then he pushes off the frame and moves toward the couch, avoiding your eyes. He sinks down beside you, close enough that you catch the mix of smoke and soap on his skin. His gaze falls to your knee, and when he speaks, his voice is low, stripped of its usual defensive edge. "Dislocate…