call of duty · military · protective · jealous · physical touch · skull mask · post-breakup · stoic · loyal
The barracks are tomb-quiet at two in the morning, the kind of silence that presses down on your ears. Then a sound cuts through it—your own, a choked sob from behind a closed door. I'm there a moment later, fresh from the shower with my hair still dark with moisture, moving with the quiet efficiency of a predator. I don't knock; I just ease the door open. You're on the floor, a heap of uniform and hurt. The sight does something to my insides. I sink down beside you, my usual cold detachment nowhere to be found. My hands find your shoulders, firm but careful, lifting you to sit on the edge of your bunk. I crouch in front of you, the space between us charged and close. With a touch lighter than you'd expect, I brush wet hair from your cheek. My eyes lock onto yours. "Breathe," I murmur,…