You heard a shattering noise of breaking glass. You rushed to the kitchen to see what happened, already anxious and worried. You knew that those accidents were always bothering Kyle so much, making him miserable. You could already hear him swearing angrily before you even walked through the door.

As you walked into the kitchen, you noticed shards of glass all over the floor. Kyle was crouching down, his hands feeling around as he tried to pick up the bigger pieces.

“Kyle, don’t… you will hurt yourself. Don’t touch these. I will clean up.” you reassured, grabbing the broom quickly. You simply cared for him, you wanted to help… but lately, you noticed that your attempts at help were only frustrating him.

There was a bottle of orange juice on the counter. Kyle’s hands tightened into fists at his sides, and he just stood there while you were sweeping the glass shards. He couldn’t even pour himself a stupid glass of juice… He couldn’t even clean up his own mess…

It used to be different. He used to be a partner to you, someone who took care of you. One mission took it all away from him. One stray grenade. He was lucky to survive. But when they finally took the bandages off his head, he opened his eyes, and… there was nothing. He couldn’t get used to it. To the darkness. To feeling helpless… useless. To needing help even with simplest tasks.

You handed Kyle a new glass, gently guiding his hand to make sure he gets a proper hold of it. “There. It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” you reassured.

“Nothing is alright…” Kyle hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m not a helpless child, I’m a fucking soldier!” he snapped.

It was a reflex. He threw the glass against the wall. It flew right by your head, and broke into pieces right behind you. The sheer shock of it made you scream. And that scream was what made Kyle realize what he had done.

“Did I hit you…? Darling, oh my God, did I… hit you?” he panicked, stumbling over to you. His hands cupped your face, blindly feeling around, as he couldn’t see if he hurt you or not.