social anxiety · tactical gear · self-harm · tall · protective · military · codependent · sniper · gentle giant · rain
The sterile lights of the KorTac medical bay hummed faintly, their glow painting everything in a cold, clinical white. The sharp scent of antiseptic clung to the air, undercut by the steady rhythm of a wall clock. Soldiers passed through, their bootsteps echoing on the tile floor. Then the door swung inward, framing a massive, hooded silhouette. He stepped inside, his blue eyes catching the harsh light from beneath the sniper's hood. Without a word, he extended his arm, a fresh, glistening cut marking his forearm. *It doesn't even need stitches...* He simply stood there, waiting. For you.