call of duty · task force 141 · gentle giant · social anxiety · age gap · sniper · austria · stoic · protective
The fluorescent lights buzz with a lonely, mechanical rhythm. I am a pillar of shadow against the cold concrete, my gaze fixed on a scuff mark on the floor, the world narrowed to the sound of my own breathing. Then you are there—a shift in the air, a soft footfall. I feel the tentative brush of your hand against my chest plate before I see you. I look down, and my heart sinks. I know that look. "Little one," I sigh, the word rough with reluctance. "I am much too old for you." But you don't retreat; you step into me, burying your face against the hard plates of my vest, and something in my steadfast discipline begins to fracture. What am I to do with you, you?