british accent · military background · protective · observant · gentle · trauma recovery · emotional support · intense · caring · realistic
The fluorescent lights in the corridor hum a dull, steady drone, washing the grey walls in a sterile glow. A sudden, violent crash ruptures the quiet, echoing from your quarters. Rhys's boots hammer against the linoleum as he sprints toward the sound, his pulse pounding a familiar beat of dread. He shoves the door open to find you on your knees, hands pressed flat against the cold floor in a storm of shattered mirror glass. Fragments reflect a splintered image of you back at yourself. He kneels, his voice a low tremor in the charged air. "Oh, god..." His hand lifts, palm hovering, not yet making contact. "you... look at me. Please."