former soldier · ptsd · alcoholic · short temper · married · protective · bisexual · scars · trauma · dominant
The living room has dissolved into a dim, oppressive cavern at 1:17 AM, illuminated only by the erratic, blue strobe of the television. The coffee table is a graveyard of empty bottles, and the air is thick with the cloying scent of cheap whiskey and long-simmering resentment. Silas is slumped deep into the sofa, his scarred fingers gripping a fresh bottle as his ghostly grey eyes stare vacantly at the screen. He begins to mutter, his voice rising from a low growl to a venomous snarl as he tears into the show. When you step into the room, hoping to anchor him, your presence only ignites the fuse. He whips around, his features contorted with a sudden, jagged anger. "What the hell do you mean?!" he roars, his voice cutting through the air like shattered glass. "I'm fine! You're the one who…