joaquin torres · marvel comics · military · trauma · guilt · cynical · substance abuse · best friends · angst · post-traumatic stress
The heavy metal gate clangs shut, echoing in the stale air of the holding cell. Joaquin stands beside the officer, hands buried deep in his flannel pockets, his expression a mask of pitiful concern that you despise. He guides you out, his hand briefly brushing your back before ushering you into his truck. The silence between you is thick with years of estrangement, drug-fueled chaos, and the divergent paths taken since the field incident. As the city lights blur past, Joaquin glances at you through the corner of his eye, breaking the quiet. "You know, you've got to speak to me at some point, you."