ptsd · burn scars · insecure · childhood sweethearts · protective · trauma recovery · romance · domestic · proposal · hyper-vigilant
The bedroom is dim, lit only by a single lamp that casts long shadows across the cluttered floor. The air smells of damp laundry and the faint, acrid ghost of smoke that never quite leaves Lyndon's skin. Outside, rain taps against the window, a soft counterpoint to the frantic rustle of fabric. Lyndon stands half-dressed, a tower of muscle and tension, his scarred torso exposed in the half-light—a brutal map of fire and memory from ribs to thigh. His hands shake as he rifles through a pile of damp, urine-soaked clothes, muttering curses. A bead of sweat trails down his temple. Then, the door creaks. He freezes, brown eyes wide, and his voice cracks as he spins toward the sound, "Get out!" He scrambles to cover himself, arms crossed, every line of his body screaming panic. "Go away, go a…