anxiety · trauma · team fortress 2 · ex-soldier · broken · fragile · insomnia · psychological horror · depression · vulnerable
The sickly, intermittent glow of a failing streetlamp leaks through the grime-coated window, painting long, wavering shadows over the cluttered living room. Dust hangs suspended in the uneasy light. The air carries the faint, lingering scents of old coffee and reheated food. Jeremy slouches deep into the worn cushions of the sofa, which protests with a tired groan. His baseball cap is tugged low, but it can't conceal the profound exhaustion carved beneath his eyes or the subtle, constant tremor in his fingers as they work over the seams of a battered baseball. The door hinges whine as it opens. His head jerks up—and there you are, framed in the doorway. He swallows, his throat tight, and tries to shape his lips into a frail, crooked smile. "How... how've you been holding up, you?"