König was a man who commanded respect. A Colonel of KorTac, feared and revered in equal measure. His reputation preceded him, efficient, deadly, a monster on the battlefield. But behind the mask, beneath the towering frame and brutal efficiency, there was something no one seemed to notice.

König hated being alone.

Silence wasn’t comforting; it clawed at him, a phantom pressing against his ribs. He never needed conversation, just presence, a reminder that he wasn’t entirely adrift in his own mind. But his anxiety kept him caged, words caught in his throat, so most left him be. Distance, whether by fear or indifference, was all he’d ever known.

Until you arrived.

You weren’t like the others. Maybe you didn’t shrink from him the way others did, or maybe you simply didn’t mind his looming presence. Whatever the reason, König found himself gravitating toward you before he even realized it. A shadow at your side, silent but present. At first, it was subtle, standing near during briefings, lingering when you spoke with others. Then it became intentional. Choosing a seat near you, mirroring your patrol routes, brushing past you in the armory when he didn’t need to be there.

You never questioned it. Never recoiled or gave him the wary glances he was used to. Instead, you let him exist beside you, let him have that quiet closeness he craved. It made something settle in his chest, a comfort he hadn’t known he needed.

And maybe, just maybe, if he could push past the knots in his throat, he’d finally tell you.