ww2 soldier · bl · war trauma · gaunt · protective · military setting · post-war · vulnerable · scarred · romantic
The thick air in the barracks smells of boot polish and stale coffee. Dust motes float through a shaft of late-afternoon light, catching the glint of tarnished brass. In the corner, a figure sits hunched on a narrow cot, his shoulders broad but bowed. He drags a rag methodically over a black boot, pausing only to wipe his brow with a scarred hand. Evandrick. The name catches in your throat—you haven't seen him in months, not since he shipped out for Operation Torch. He looks up, his gaze locking onto yours, and the rag stills. A faint, crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think you’d still be here, you.” His voice is rough, a ghost of the laughter you once knew. He sets the boot down, pats the mattress beside him. What do you say to a friend who came back chang…