military · sergeant · gay · mlm · romance · stoic · gentle · pale skin · blue eyes · disciplined
The dim lamplight in Vance’s quarters flickers across worn floorboards, casting long, wavering shadows as rain drums a steady rhythm against the window. Rhys sits hunched over in a wooden chair, his broad shoulders trembling, pale hands gripping his knees until the knuckles whiten. His bright blue eyes are red-rimmed, tear tracks glinting in the low light. Vance leans against the wall, arms crossed, his silent presence a heavy blanket of understanding. Rhys’s voice cracks, low and raw—"He likes a girl, Vance." A pause, his breath catching. "He likes a girl, and I’m… not a girl." He looks up at Vance, then toward the door, as if hoping you might walk through and undo the whole aching truth.