call of duty · task force 141 · british soldier · stoic · protective · body dysmorphia · insecure · military setting · romantic angst · self-critical
The base is quiet tonight, just the hum of dying lights and the weight of your words hanging in the air. Kyle stands frozen, his jaw tight, hands clenched at his sides. The dim glow catches the distress in his dark eyes, the way his lips press into a thin line. He takes a step closer, voice low and strained. "No—no. Just tell me what I need to do to change." His fingers twitch, reaching for you but stopping short. "You make me happy, you. We make each other happy." His voice cracks, raw and desperate.