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Being a Colonel, people expect you to be harsh, manly, fit, aggressive, this and that. König, the well known 6’4 giant, as intimidating as he looks, is a real softie. The Austrian joined the army in hopes of leaving behind his thoughts of the endless tormenting he has been through in school – being considered a tall, antisocial freak by everybody did things to his mental health. He can’t remember the last time he had gone without tracking his calories, weighing himself, looking away from mirrors.
Joining his army was kind-of like his way out – going somewhere, where no one knows you, a fresh start for him and his insecurities. After years of serving and obtaining his rank as a Colonel, the members of KorTac have gotten quite a liking to him, including Horangi, his now best friend.
Life seems perfect, a high rank, a good friend, respect from everyone. Right?
As tough as he might seem, he has a load of mental health issues. Self harm scars all over his arms and legs, long history with anorexia, survived multiple suicide attemps, all different. One just as he turned 14, surviving an overdose of drugs, one when he was 18, attempting to do the same but with alchohol, one right before he just joined the army, by severe blood loss. Though, to his friends he has promised he would never do it again, he loved the rush of dragging the blade across his skin and seeing the number drop on the scale.
As his team kept getting larger and larger, people left, people joined. The most recent member was y/n, a medic, a graduate of one of those fancy medical universities, with a bachelor of medicine. The others did not know why they joined – they could have such a bright future with such a bachelor, why would they purposefully go into an industry that either fucks you up, or is for the fucked up?
y/n seemed to be very experienced on the field, being the first one to the rescue, having saved many of the members before. Though, they weren’t really talkative, yes, the members didn’t hate them, but they were merely acquaintances. As much as they were kind, they seemed almost emotionless, rarely letting something small, like a chuckle, slip.
König took a liking to y/n, almost seeing himself in the young one. Seeing how they craved communication, but simply weren’t able to communicate. Seeing how they would look absolutely drained on the field, working like a robot. Seeing how they would not react to burns or scars, almost like they got used to it. König and y/n did… talk, that’s for sure, although can you really call an exchange of a few words talking? Some might say no, some might say yes.
After a particularly tough year, könig couldn’t helo but relapse.. many times. Some scars small, some trailing across the entire limb. Some just cat scratches, some turned into keloids from just how deep they were. König could distance himself, drink every evening, cut himself as much as he wants, destroy his mental health and physical wellbeing, he’d still hate himself.
He had always tried to avoid medical checkups – seeing someone look at his body, probably thinking just how disgusting he is, sent him into panic attacks where he could do nothing but sob and whimper. But it had to be done someday.
The summer was extremely hot, the members barely surviving, thank god they had time off, but they still had to live on base, which was basically peaceful but shitty. Okay, the members could tolerate eachother, but really? Seeing eachother all year long without ven having a rest for their social battery? That seemed like hell.
By the time the medical checkups came, it was about 30 degrees, the base was boiling, not even the aircons help. But either way, what needs to be done is done. König, being the way he is, showed up last. He didn’t want extra attention (though he needed it). He hid in his room all day, because there way no way he would wear pants and longsleeves, and no way his friend and team members could see his scars.
Entering the medical room, he could see y/n. They looked regular, just a plain face, hair out of their way. But something jumped into his vision – cuts, straight in a row, all over their limbs, back, neck. Y/n finally noticed König, greeting him, eyes lingering just slightly on his limbs.
After the regular check of blood sugar, blood pressure, heartbeat, mobility, all of the physical examination was done. Though, könig was so panicked, he could only sit on the hospital bed, staring down at the floor with wide eyes.
Y/n, their back turned onto könig while typing something up onto the computer, spoke up, which happens rarely, so könig knew to value their words.
“I bet you felt really scared doing this?”
“Yeah, yeah, I did” said könig in a small, trembling voice, almost like he was tearing up.
Y/n turned around, sitting just opposite him, pulling up a chair.
“You know that this is a very hard thing to do for people like us, right?”
“R-Right..”
“Well, glad you do. Listen, I get it, I grew up chronically ill and always had to go to those damned doctors. That’s why I decided to become one, well, sort of. I hated the attention, hated my mom seeing me, 12 in only in socks and shoes with unhealed scars. Listen, I could not care less about how you look, ofcourse I worry,
But I really don’t care if theyre cat scratches, keloids, unhealed, barely visible, I really could not.”
König, on the spot, let a single teardrop fall otno the floor, in inability to say anything.
“Let’s ust get you scar tape and some tea, yeah?”
“Yeah… yeah.”