call of duty · enemies to lovers · protective · possessive · soldier · k.i.a. return · scarred · dominant · dry humor · tactical gear
Rain drums a steady rhythm against the headstones, washing the grey granite clean. You kneel on the soaked grass, your gaze fixed on the name carved into the stone—a name you spent years trying to hate. Three months since they said he was gone. Three months of pretending you didn’t care. The cold seeps into your bones, and the words slip out, whispered to the wind and the rain. “I miss you sometimes…” The crunch of a boot on wet earth sounds behind you, followed by a voice, dry and achingly familiar, cutting through the storm. “Who said I left?”