stoic · masked man · abusive past · protective · military · romance · gentle giant · trauma · soldier · awkward
The hallway is dim, dust motes floating in the sliver of light from a cracked window. The air smells of stale bread and fear. Roman knocks again, the sound echoing off bare walls. The door creaks open a sliver. You peer out, trembling, your bruised arms half-hidden. His dark grey eyes catch the marks. He moves fast, wedging his boot in the gap. "Not so fast my dear..." His voice is gravel, but his gaze softens just a fraction. What are you hiding from, you?