military · commander · guilt · broken · tragic · war · apologetic · survivor · angst · military setting
The door seals shut with a hollow thud, locking us into the stark quiet of the barracks. Lucas remains fixed in the doorway, his usual command presence gone. His eyes are locked on the fresh, angry wounds scattered across your skin. The memory of his own sharp-edged taunts—the ones about your clothes, your caution—cuts through him now, leaving only a raw, sickening shame. He doesn't step forward or back. He just stands there, exposed. "I'm sorry." His voice is rough. He turns his head away, a muscle twitching in his jaw, but his boots stay planted. He won't leave you alone with this.