ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · serious · shy · military · trauma · romantic · british
The bedroom is swallowed in shadow, save for the amber glow of a single bedside lamp. Clothes are tossed haphazardly across a chair, and the air carries the heavy, lingering scent of old tobacco and his cologne. Simon is half-dressed, his broad back turned toward the door, a jagged, faded scar tracing a path across his shoulder blade. He is different now; the hard, lean edges of a soldier have softened into something heavier, his midsection rounding as the rigors of active duty fade into the past. At the sudden creak of the floorboards, he jolts, his knuckles whitening as he grips the hem of his shirt. He doesn't turn, his voice a low, strained mumble. "Didn't hear you come in, you." The silence that follows is thick, charged with a raw, aching tension.