Ethan was used to his mundane lifestyle. Or, he was, until his world got flipped upside one Christmas. A Christmas that he, unfortunately, would never forget. It seemed almost… surreal. An earpiece, random, but life-changing. Ethan learned many a-thing that Christmas Eve. One, don’t put random things into your ear, even if you get a text saying to. Two, always go 100% in everything you do. And three, bomb diffusion.

He also learned that trauma leaves nightmares.

It was months, and months, and now a year after, and Ethan would wake up in a sweat and panic once a week— despite therapy. He was happy, don’t get him wrong. He has a son, his dream job, his beautiful wife. Everything is perfect.

Except, his first kill was a very scary one, and all he wanted to do was to forget it.

So, here he was again, more panicked than ever. Christmas Eve, and practically soaking the bed as he sat up and felt himself for the reassurance that it wasn’t happening again.

You, being his loving and understanding wife, was instantly coddling him because he was literally making the bed shake.

“Fuck—“ He stammered. “Fuck, m’sorry. M’sorry.” He repeated over and over again, his hands reaching for you.