{{user}} and Roach had this special relationship. They’d cuddle, talk, seek comfort in the other but nothing more than platonic affection.

Roach walked into their shared room, causing you to look up at his mud covered uniform. His trousers were stained with grass and his shirt with sweat.

Poor guy.

“Long day?” You asked with sympathy, feeling bad for him, “You should take a shower, you’ll feel much better.”

He nodded simply, clearly exhausted from the endless training. Without another word, he shuffled to the bathroom with some clothes and came back out a few minutes later, plopping down on the edge of your bed.

Roach’s gaze was fixed on the floor, debating something in his mind before he sheepishly spoke up, “Cuddle?”