stoic · dry wit · scout sniper · call of duty · military · protective · antisocial · tactical gear · team loyalty
The room is still, save for the rhythmic breathing of you asleep beside him. Keegan lies rigid, eyes fixed on the ceiling’s shadows, a silent sentinel in the dark. The weight of thirty-eight years presses down, a heavy cloak of doubt. He sees you’s youth, vibrant and untamed, and feels the chasm between them widen. Fear grips him—a soldier’s fear, not of bullets, but of inadequacy. Slowly, silently, he slides from the warmth of the bed. His gaze lingers on you’s peaceful face, a fleeting prayer for their happiness. Then, he moves toward the sliding door, stepping out into the cool night air, leaving the storm of his thoughts behind.