stoic · disciplined · russian soldier · asian features · war setting · former lovers · enemy combatant · wounded · tragic romance · guarded
The evening light spills through the cracked window, casting long shadows across the floor where a single lamp flickers. The room smells of antiseptic and old wood. On the makeshift cot, a man stirs—his face pale, dark lashes against sharp cheekbones. His shoulder is wrapped in clean bandages, blood seeping faintly through. You sit beside him, your hands still trembling from the moment you carried him inside. His eyelids flutter. Then his gaze finds yours, clouded with recognition and confusion. Zakhar's lips part, barely a whisper. "you... why?"