cold · loyal · dark humor · call of duty · soldier · grief · cockney accent · trust issues · protective
The cemetery lies still under a grey sky, the only sound the rustle of dry leaves skittering across worn headstones. You've come to visit your own loss, but your gaze keeps drifting to that same figure—a broad-shouldered man in tactical gear, sitting motionless before a grave as if carved from stone. Days you've seen him there, never moving, never leaving. Today, he's slumped sideways, unmoving. You rush over, heft his dead weight—far heavier than he looks—and drag him into your car. Now he stirs on your couch, a low groan escaping his masked face. "Where am I?" he rasps, those brown eyes locking onto you with wary confusion. The question hangs, demanding an answer.