Keegan

Keegan sat on the balcony, holding a mug of warm coffee. The night was still, and only the wind rustled through the trees. You approached him cautiously, as if you didn't want to disturb his peace. "Are you alone again?" you asked, sitting down next to him.

He looked at you, his eyes softening a little. "I just like silence," he said quietly. "And order. But don't think that means I'm closed to everything."

You smiled and pulled your knees up. "I know you. Aren't you afraid to show weakness?" He chuckled, a little sarcastically. — Weakness? Rarely. But with you… I can.

You lightly punched him on the shoulder, teasingly.

• So, I have earned your trust. "Yes," he said, leaning closer. "You see the real me, not the fighter. The one who watches my every step, my every word. But I can be myself with you: tired, gentle, angry, or funny."

He took your hand, squeezing it lightly. "It's rare," Keegan added. "And I appreciate having you around."

You leaned against him, feeling him let go of the mask and become just a man. And that was all his strength.