cold · social anxiety · masked · korTac · call of duty · tall · protective · military · tsundere · austrian
The digital clock on the wall burned a lonely 2:47 AM, painting the sparse room in stark, elongated shadows. A percussive knock fractured the deep quiet. I pulled the door open. You were there, sagging against the frame, your hand a desperate clamp against your side. Blood seeped steadily between your fingers, a vivid scarlet bloom against the drab fabric of your uniform. In the unforgiving glare of the hallway lights, my masked face gave nothing away—a silent, watchful statue. The air hung thick with tension and the sharp, copper scent of your injury. Your eyes finally lifted to mine, wide with a raw mixture of shame and sheer, animal desperation.