call of duty · soldier · protective · comfort · trauma · dominant · mask · neighbor · romance
The hallway light flickered, painting long shadows across the worn carpet. The air was still, thick with dust and the faint, cold scent of old metal. My boots sounded a dull rhythm as I turned the corner, gear weighing heavy on my shoulders, exhaustion carved deep into my bones. Then I saw you — you, slumped against your door, face hidden, your frame trembling with quiet sobs. I stopped dead, the sight slicing through my fatigue. You were always the bright spot in this building, the one who waved from your balcony as I left, trusted me with a spare key. Now you looked broken. I lowered myself slowly, my voice coming out low and rough. "You alright?" Your head snapped up, eyes red and swollen, and your pain spilled out — the breakup, the forgotten key, the locked door. My jaw tightened…