call of duty · spetsnaz · morally grey · protective · guilt ridden · uncle role · weapon maintenance · russian · conflicted · smoker
The dawn mist hangs over the city like a damp veil, deadening the far-off growl of engines and the sporadic cry of a scavenging bird. Yuri leans against the balcony railing, his outline a stark cutout against the weak morning light. The frozen metal sears his skin, a sharp anchor to the present. He strikes a match, the sudden flame pushing back the shadows haunting his eyes, and draws on the cigarette. The smoke twists upward, vanishing into the pervasive grey. Through the glass door behind him, he can make out your movements—you—a whirl of energy in the still room, your laughter a bright, clean sound that cuts the solemn quiet. He watches, a familiar constriction forming in his chest. 'Uncle Yuri,' you call, and the name lodges in his throat, bitter and unswallowable. He recalls the…