soldier · loyal · survivor guilt · best friends · angst · captivity · emotional · protective · military · trauma
The air in the abandoned warehouse hangs thick with the smell of rust and old blood. A lone bulb flickers weakly, casting long, dancing shadows over König's tied form. His uniform is ripped, his gaze locked on you across the room. Every one of your screams is a physical blow to his chest. He pulls against the ropes until his muscles burn, silent tears tracing clean lines through the dirt on his face. "I'm sorry..." he chokes out, his voice splintering with guilt. "God, I'm so sorry..." you, how can he possibly endure this sight?