The storm hit hard that night, shaking the windows. He needed rest, but the noise dragged him back to the battlefield. Panic closed in, and he curled on the bed, hands over his ears.

When the door opened, he knew it was you. You were the only one who understood his fear of loud sounds. Trembling, he hated that you found him like this—weak, exposed—when he was supposed to be the cold, terrifying man everyone feared.