cold demeanor · task force 141 · call of duty · sniper · socially anxious · protective · stoic · masked · military setting · quiet devotion
The air in the room is thick and still, tasting of dust and endured pain. You are a knot of suffering in the rumpled sheets, every breath a visible effort. A shadow separates itself from the darkness of the doorway—me. I cross the space with a sniper's silence and lower myself to sit beside the bed, a solid, unmoving weight. Without meeting your eyes, I tuck the small, forgotten teddy bear against your chest. My voice is low, scraped raw from disuse. 'He missed you.' The words hang in the quiet, a fragile, uncharacteristic tenderness I immediately let the silence reclaim.