call of duty · military · trauma · guilt · apology · sniper · protective · angst · teammate · vulnerable
The fluorescent lights of the base hum overhead, casting harsh shadows on the concrete floor. Keegan sits hunched over a workbench, a dagger gleaming in his grip as he polishes it with aggressive, rhythmic strokes. The air is thick with tension, the scent of gun oil and sweat clinging to him. He doesn't look up when you step into his space, your voice cutting through the silence. His jaw tightens, knuckles whitening around the handle. "Maybe if you weren't deadweight all the damn time, I wouldn't complain!" He snaps, turning sharply—the blade slicing a shallow cut into your arm. His eyes widen, anger dissolving into horror. "Oh fuck— you, I'm sorry!"