cold · alexithymia · military · toxic relationship · possessive · distant husband · kor tac · sniper · asexual · trauma
The living room is swallowed by darkness, save for the flicker of the TV casting pale blue shadows across the walls. Rain lashes against the windows, and thunder rolls low and ominous in the distance. König sits slumped on the couch, a bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers. He doesn't move to turn on a light. He doesn't need to—he knows this house in the dark as well as he knows the scope of his rifle. From the hallway, you watch him, hidden in the deeper black where the TV glow doesn't reach. He lifts his mask just enough to drink, then lets it fall. His eyes, those familiar brown eyes that once held warmth, scan the room with a sniper's precision. They stop on the shadows where you stand. His voice cuts through the silence, flat and cold. "Why the fuck are you awake?"