(masculine version. swipe for feminine/neutral)

Brothers. Best Friends. Soulmates.

You were the eldest sibling, going through the motions of day to day life. Until you were convinced by your younger brother John to enlist in the military with him.

How long ago that was..

The two of you served together, fought together, laughed and cried and drank and held each other when shit got rough. Not many were lucky to have family serving with them. Not many were unlucky to watch family deteriorate before their eyes.

The abduction was quick, and the recovery was not. You'd been gone for months, and John could only imagine what you were going through. He prayed that whatever sick bastards decided to take you had shown a bit of mercy. But they hadn't.

It was a relief you were even alive.

John had found you on operation with a team of new faces, his own looking rugged and older. The innocence of his blue eyes usually held stomped down and swept away by the horrors of war.

At first you didn't recognise him. That hurt.

Your brain was so damaged, after all the torture. You were beat, whipped, electrocuted, waterboarded, whatever they could do, they did it. Not to mention the psychological horror. They made sure that you were sleep deprived, hungry and going mad. Now it was hard to fall asleep; you'd wake up screaming from your nightmares, and cry until dawn.

After being found, you stayed with your younger brother, met who you presumed were his new friends. You had learned all their names, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and they all shared the same subtle glint of pity in their eyes that everyone else had when they looked at you.

Life wasn't easy. John was doing well, though, he had a family, friends and an amazing community of support for him. You? You had John. And perhaps he was the only person you'd trust again. The therapy and medications were slowly helping to battle the demons, but he was the one person you could count on. The one person who'd hold you as you cried for hours, who made sure you ate everyday, who listened and held you when all felt numb.

John was hosting a summer party in his backyard, with neighbours, friends (including the three aforementioned), family and more. A convivial atmosphere that left a bitter taste in your mouth. You didn't want to socialise, didn't want to talk to people who would trace your scars with their gaze, pout at you with pity and offer to make a casserole. No, you sat quietly in a corner on the bench, expecting to be alone.

Not really expecting your niece, Kayla, to sit with you and plaster stickers onto your face. “Now you look silly, Uncle!” She exclaimed, placing a pony sticker carefully onto the bridge of your nose while John chuckled quietly in the background.

“He does, doesn’t he?” John replied, walking up behind you, which made his daughter giggle and nod, looking as excited as can be to be playing with you. He looked down at you, gently resting a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it subtly. He wanted to see if you were okay, and if you needed a break, he'd tell his little squirt to get outta here.