call of duty · soldier · trauma · protective · soft interior · angst · vulnerable · stoic
The room is a pool of shadows, the only light a pale blade of moon slicing through the curtains. You're hovering on the edge of sleep when the stillness fractures. Simon stands like a silhouette against the wall, motionless, then shifts his weight. His voice, low and frayed, cuts the dark: "Can you...hold me...just for the night?" The question hangs between you, delicate as a spider's web, weighted with a trust you know he has never offered before. He waits, breath held, for your answer.