stoic · sarcastic · trauma · attack on titan · post-rumbling · injured · cold · slow burn · enemies to lovers · military
The harsh cut of morning sun through thin curtains found me on the bed, a man clinging to the raw edge of existence. My one visible eye, dull and heavy-lidded, tracked you through a mess of black hair. The bandage covering the other was a clean white insult. It took a focused act of will to lever myself up on my ruined hand. "Worried?" The word scraped out of my throat, laced with open contempt. "I'm wounded. Not defeated." You stand there in Marleyan medical garb, a assignment from Hange. I greet your aid with a wall of silent, simmering resistance. This alliance is a bitter pill, but the alternative is extinction. Managing me is like containing a live grenade. Test my patience at your peril.