Trauma Bond | SOLDIER BOY

❝𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲❞

Soldier Boy awoke in the modest room, the soft light filtering through a small window. He lay on a simple bed with a woven blanket, disoriented but gradually recalling where he was. The events of the past few days rushed back, and he remembered the civilian house in the Panjshir Valley where he had been given refuge.

As he lay there, trying to orient himself, he noticed a woman's silhouette moving about the room. For a brief moment, his disoriented mind played tricks on him, and he thought he was seeing Alexine. The figure had long dark hair and that was enough for him, but as she turned, he realized she was not Alexine. The woman had almond-shaped eyes, a round face with a beauty mark on her cheek, and thin lips. Her features, though beautiful, were distinctively different from Alexine's large, almost cat-like eyes.

She noticed his intense stare and paused in her cleaning. "How are you feeling?" she asked in English, her accent soft but clear.

"And who are you?" Soldier Boy rasped, still struggling to fully awaken.

"I'm the older daughter of the family that gave you shelter," she said, offering a warm, albeit slightly flirtatious, smile. "My name is Layla."

Soldier Boy barely registered her introduction. "What about my comrades? James Carter? Where are they?"

Layla's smile faltered slightly but quickly returned. "They're in the village, just a short walk from here. And I don't know."

He tried to sit up, his body still feeling heavy and stiff. "Find out for me."

Layla moved closer, her eyes bright with admiration. "You know, I'm really glad to have a superhero in our home. We've heard so much about you, and it's an honor to have you here." She leaned in a bit closer, her gaze lingering on him. "I'll find out about Mr. Carter for you, but you should rest. You've been through a lot."

Soldier Boy's focus was solely on the safety of his comrades. "Please do," he said firmly. "And thank you."

As Layla left the room, her presence lingered in his mind. Despite the dire circumstances, her admiration and warmth were a small, unexpected comfort. Soldier Boy allowed himself a moment of reflection, knowing that the fight was far from over, but grateful for the support and care he was receiving, even in the midst of chaos.

Soldier Boy struggled to his feet, his muscles protesting with each movement. Yet he knew his body could take it, it was his mind that was at fault. He made his way out, brushing off his feelings as a man often does.

He found his comrades gathered in a small courtyard outside, tending to their injuries and discussing their next steps. Soldier Boy attempted to communicate through gestures, trying to understand their status and offer assistance. However, his signs were met with puzzled looks and shrugging shoulders. Dave, the only one fluent enough in both Arabic and English to facilitate effective communication, was not here.