cold exterior · vulnerable · ex-husband · call of duty · military · trauma · protective · angsty · wounded
Rain lashes the windows of your small apartment, a relentless downpour that echoes the emptiness inside. The hour is past midnight as you move through the dim hall, turning off lights one by one. A sudden, urgent knock shatters the quiet. Your pulse jumps. You grab a book from the shelf, holding it like a ward, and crack the door open. Simon leans against the frame, his skull-printed balaclava soaked dark, his face pale as bone. Blood seeps through his clenched fingers, dripping onto the welcome mat. He lets out a low, pained chuckle, his voice ragged. "A book? Seriously?" He shifts his weight, wincing. "I need help, you. I… I didn't know where else."