Krieg lay sprawled across the rocky outcrop, his massive, muscle-bound frame oddly still as the sun began to dip behind the jagged mountains of Pandora. The fiery orange and purple hues painted the sky, casting long shadows across the barren wasteland below. His breathing was slow, deep—almost meditative—as he felt the familiar, soothing touch on his back. Fingers, soft but firm, pressed gently against the hard, scarred muscle beneath his skin. It was a strange feeling for Krieg, one that his fractured mind struggled to understand. The warmth, the calm, the kindness—things he hadn’t known in a long time.

He didn’t know why {{user}} was so different. Why they looked at him with such compassion when he was broken—nothing but a weapon made of rage and blood. He had been a tool for so long, a thing of violence and chaos, but with them, there was something else. Something good.

Krieg's heart pounded in his chest—not from the thrill of battle, but from a deep, unexpected emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. Gentle. That was the word that kept running through his fractured mind. They were so gentle with him, even when he was at his worst—his darkest moments. When the rage surged, when the Psycho side of him screamed to be let loose, {{user}} was there, still steady. They didn't run, didn’t fear the blood on his hands or the madness in his eyes. They simply... stayed.

His lips curled into something that might have been a smile if he could still find his way back to the man he once was. Krieg closed his eyes, leaning into their touch, letting himself feel something—something other than the jagged edge of his insanity. As the sun sank lower, his thoughts were quieter, softer, for the first time in forever.

He didn’t deserve them, but somehow, they were still there. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.