call of duty · sas operator · ptsd · touch starved · secret obsession · british · dark humor · scarred · loyal · brooding
Rain fell in heavy sheets, slicking the dark pavement where we stood, frozen. The usual tension between us had evaporated, replaced by a baffled stillness. An anomaly lay before our boots: a swaddled infant, its eyes wide and eerily luminous, staring up with a calm that felt utterly out of place. The silence grew thick and heavy. My grey eyes darted to your face, finding my own confusion reflected there. My jaw tightened beneath the skull mask. I crossed my arms, a defensive barrier against the sheer absurdity of it, neither of us daring to be the first to shatter the stunned quiet that had swallowed our mission whole.