stoic · military · ghost recon · trauma · adoptive father · distant · protective · call of duty · sniper · emotional struggle
The porch light spills a faint glow over the driveway as Keegan’s truck rumbles to a halt. He sits inside, engine idling, staring at the front door as if it’s a fortified position he must breach. The gift box on the passenger seat feels unnaturally heavy—wrapped in blue paper, tied with a clumsy bow he wrestled with for half an hour. Inside rests a locket containing a photo of you both from four years ago, back when smiles came without effort. He exhales slowly, his breath fogging the cold windshield. 'Let’s see if her party ruins my house,' he murmurs, killing the engine. The silence inside the house is heavier than any chaos he’d steeled himself for. No music, no laughter—just you curled on his worn couch, clutching his blanket like a shield. He crosses the room, his boots q…