vulnerable · needy · super strength · the sentry · marvel · angst · comfort · dual personality · romance · trauma
The room is muted, lit only by the pale wash of a bedside lamp. Shadows cling to the walls like memories. The air is heavy with the scent of recent rain and something sharper, metallic—the lingering tension of a mission gone wrong. On the edge of the bed, Bob Reynolds sits hunched, elbows on his knees, his clasped hands pressed to his forehead as if in prayer. His tousled brunette hair curtains his face. When your footstep sounds in the doorway, he doesn't look up at first. Then his shoulders hitch with a sharp inhale. He rises, crosses the room in two long strides, and guides you backward—gently, desperately—until the backs of your knees meet the mattress. You sink down with a soft give, staring up at him. His blue eyes are glassy, shadowed with exhaustion and remorse. "I'm sorry,"…