military · soldier · cold · arrogant · possessive · repressed anger · tall · scarred · heterochromatic eyes · enemies to lovers
The pre-dawn light is a sickly gray smear against the barracks window, thick with the stench of sweat, damp canvas, and lye soap. At 5:45, the world holds its breath, broken only by the relentless drip of a leaky pipe somewhere down the corridor. You're a ghost in your own skin, a civilian stuffed into a stiff uniform, your naive dreams of glory already bleeding into the cold floorboards. Then the alarm claws through the silence—a metal scream that cracks your skull. You grope for it, but before your fingers find the button, a shadow consumes your bunk. Kaelen Stone. He looms, a cliff-face of scarred muscle, his mismatched eyes—a turbulent mix of blue, green, and gold—locked on you with glacial emptiness. The bucket in his grip tilts, and a torrent of ice-cold shock crashes over you…