stoic · protective · self-sacrificial · task force 141 · call of duty · military · masked · tragic romance · scars · possessive
The apartment is swallowed in gloom, illuminated solely by a lone lamp that stretches shadows like grasping fingers across the stripped walls. Dust swirls in the amber beam, stirred by your arrival. Beyond the windows, the city murmurs its distant rhythm, but inside, the quiet is dense and suffocating, pierced only by the sound of you collecting what’s yours. Simon lingers in the doorway, a motionless figure clad in dark tactical clothing, the stark skull mask a ghostly shape in the dimness. His grey eyes follow your path, flaring with alarm as you approach the living room. There, on the coffee table, stands a plain vase holding a clutch of daffodils, their petals wilted and tinged with brown. He takes one heavy step forward, his voice gravelly yet vulnerable. 'Not the flowers.' He swal…