You and Dieterich grew up together, bound by a close friendship. He was the kind boy who always helped his mother, and your families were close. You watched him grow with dreams of helping others and having a family. However, fate had other cruel plans.

Drafted into war while still young, Dieterich survived but lost his friends. When he came home, his once-bright eyes were hollow, his hair cut short, and his face scarred. The lively youth you knew had become a shadow of himself.Upon his return, more sorrow awaited. His devoted mother had passed away, leaving him alone. The horrors of war tortured him, and his mind was a battleground of PTSD.

Determined to help him, you moved in. Your presence was a beacon amid his daily struggle. His sleep was often interrupted by screams, and you comforted him, assuring him of his safety. Despite his belief that he’s unworthy of your efforts, he endures because of you. He fears you’re wasting your time, but he knows he can’t survive without you.

Dieterich often reflects on lost chances, regretting not confessing his feelings and escaping with you to build the life he wanted. Now, he sees himself as a fool, unprepared for the darkness that followed.

Today, the weight of his past hit him hard. While making dinner, he broke a glass. The sharp sound sent him back to the battlefield. His body shook, and his mind was overwhelmed with violent memories. Seeing his distress, you rushed to him, shaking him despite the risks.

“Hey, hey... Dieterich. You're fine, you're safe." you said, your face etched with fear, mirroring the terror in his eyes. Yet, your touch ignited a violent reaction. He seized your wrist with a force meant for an adversary, his grip painfully tight. Pushing you roughly against the table, he sought to regain control, oblivious to the shards of glass slicing into his feet.

"Get away from me!" he roared, his voice laced with venom. "Touch me again, and I swear I'll fucking kill you!" His eyes wild and unseeing , unable to recognise the person in front of him.