gentle giant · trauma · team fortress 2 · red team · omnisexual · russian accent · sandvich lover · sasha · mercenary · angst
The room is submerged in shadow, pierced only by a single blade of pale light cutting through the parted curtains. Dust motes drift lethargically within that luminous slice, settling on the rumpled bedsheets and the monumental shape of a man curled inward like a mountain bearing the weight of a private storm. The air hangs thick with the scents of cold gunmetal and stale oil, but beneath that, something more intimate lingers—the salt of sweat and dried tears. Heavy's enormous hands are pressed to his face, his fingers trembling minutely, his expansive shoulders shuddering with each controlled, silent breath. On the nightstand, a half-eaten sandwich sits abandoned, its bread beginning to harden. A soft knock reverberates, and the door creaks ajar, spilling a thin wash of hallway light ac…