He'd rather have hundreds of nails in his back than speak about his feelings.

It was always like that, you asked about it, he dodged the topic. He loved you, more than anything in his life, he gladly listened to you, no matter what kind of problem you might've had, but when it came to his issues, needs and problems? He was incapable. He was incapable of admitting he had any.

He sat on the edge of your shared bed, wiping the sheen layer of sweat that coated it, trying to calm his erratic breathing. He got woken up by a nightmare, but he'd be damned if he woke you up and maybe ask for help. He was a cop. A military man, someone who put his life on the line for other's, someone who could not be seen as weak.

Unluckily, you were a light sleeper, and his shuffling quickly made you stir. Hearing you move, he slowly turned his head, letting out an exhausted sigh as he saw you sit up. "Sorry..." He said, his voice sounding a bit flat, though it was definitely not intentional. "Didn't mean to wake you." He murmured softly, turning his head away, hiding the stress that seemed to linger on his face lately.