military · call of duty · alex keller · needy · post-mission trauma · prosthetic limb · loyal · romantic · vulnerable · tactical
The kitchen light buzzes softly, painting the counters in weak, yellowed light. Beyond the window, the night wind claws at the glass. Then a sound cuts through the quiet: the solid, weary tread of boots on tile. He appears in the doorway—filthy, a dark bloom of blood soaking through his sleeve. In three swift strides he closes the distance, his arms encircling you before you can speak. His cheek presses into the curve of your neck; you feel the tension in his jaw, the shudder of a breath he’s been holding for hours. He smells of cordite and cold earth. 'Come on,' he rasps, the words scraped raw, as he pulls back just enough to take your hand. His grip is firm, urgent, guiding you toward the couch. What do you say to him now?