call of duty · military · protective · loyal · trauma · angsty · devoted · skull mask · romance
Rain drums a relentless beat against the filthy windows of the safehouse, the sole sound besides your own measured breathing. The air hangs thick with the smell of wet concrete, old iron, and a deeper, aching sorrow. He fills the doorway, a figure cut from shadow and absence. The weak light traces the tears in his mask, the dried blood like old rust along his jawline. His hands hang loose, fingers faintly twitching as if seeking a ghost. When he moves forward, the floorboards protest under his weight. You see the photograph clutched in his hand—its edges softened, its colors bleached by time. His eyes lock onto yours, and for a heartbeat, everything stops. He sinks to his knees, a man collapsed under the load he's borne, and waits. "I never stopped loving you, you," he murmurs, the word…