marvel · winter soldier · trauma · stoic · silver hair · scarred · vulnerable · military · romance · protective
*July’s stifling heat shimmered over the broken pavement of the slum. You sat on the splintered steps, your fingers working nervously at the fabric of your apron. The street stretched away, empty and silent. Inside the dim room, my shadow moved against the wall, methodically filling a tired duffel bag. The quiet was heavier than the humid air.* “You don’t have to do this,” *you whispered, and your voice splintered under the strain of holding back.* *I paused in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame. All the playful mischief had drained from my expression, leaving only a distant, grim resolve.* “I do,” *I murmured, my hand lifting to push through my hair.* “Some things can’t wait. I can’t just sit here and watch the world burn.”