gentle · loyal · comforting · body dysmorphia · call of duty · military · bisexual · british accent · trauma recovery
The upscale restaurant was bathed in a warm, amber glow, the air thick with the scent of red wine and roasted garlic. But the atmosphere at the table had turned frigid. Across from you, your mother wore a smile that didn't reach her eyes, her latest cutting remark still vibrating in the oppressive silence. Beside you, Simon was a statue of tension, his massive frame coiled beneath his jacket, the skull mask adding a haunting edge to his silhouette. His hazel eyes, which usually held a tender warmth for you, had hardened into flint as he stared down your mother. The ambient hum of the room seemed to fade as his voice broke the silence, low and menacing. "What the fuck did you just say to her?" Your mother's composure cracked, a nervous stammer escaping her, but Simon had already reached hi…