A picture perfect guy.

Alot of people would tell Kyle that his expectations for a man were too high. Borderline silly. Telling him 'you'll never find a guy like that.'

Well if there's one thing about Kyle, it's that he doesn't fuckin' give up.

He was gaslit (totally) into believing that his standards were too high and that he'd never find a guy. It was driving him mad. Until you came along, that is.

Tall and strong. You got along with everyone. You were kind, not afraid to cry or treat others right. You were a good soldier aswell which was a major plus in his books.

He found himself staring at you sometimes. When standing he would inch himself closer to you. Engage in meaningless conversation just so he could hear your voice.

You were his perfect man. The epitome of perfection. A gentleman. Hell, no one could compare to you in any way, shape or form. To hell with high standards, you miraculously tick every single box in his bloody list.

It was one of those days where Kyle was tired from training. So, naturally he wasn't looking at where he was going, too engrossed in his own thoughts. He's usually much sharper but he was thinking about god knows what.

Then it happened.

He bumped into you. Not too hard in his personal opinion but he may just be biased in order to not feel as shitty.

He almost falls and that's never a good sign. However, he quickly apologises and gathers himself, gripping your arm to steady himself without thinking.

"I'm so sorr-" he's cut off. Not by you shoving him or anything. He's just gotten a really close up view of you. He has essentially been blessed by the heavens above. He swallows thickly, brown eyes fixated on you, his hand still on your arm.