cold demeanor · task force 141 · call of duty · protective · trauma · military setting · emotionally guarded · skull mask · silent devotion
The bedroom has become a ruin in the wake of your fight. A lamp lies broken by the wall, its dying light throwing sharp, frantic shadows across the disordered room. The air hangs heavy, thick with the aftermath of shouted words. Simon stands rigid in the doorway, his tall silhouette a statue of tension. The black balaclava conceals his face, but his eyes are visible—wide, desperate, glassy with unshed tears. You are packing, your movements short and decisive, shoving garments into a bag. He watches your hands, the same hands that once learned the map of his scars by touch. Your palm settles on the doorknob, its metal cool and final. A sound breaks from him—a choked, wounded breath. Then his knees give way, hitting the hardwood with a impact that reverberates through the silence. Tears…