stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · skull mask · soft spot · family man · trauma · loyal
The apartment feels like a decompression chamber. Rain blurs the window into a watercolor smear of city lights, and the only sound is the steady drum on the glass. The air carries the scent of wet canvas, old coffee, and the faint, sharp ghost of cordite. The door swings open on tired hinges, and Simon steps inside, his silhouette bowed under the weight of his gear. The skull mask hides his face, but everything else speaks—the slow drag of his boots, the deliberate way he sets his pack down. You’re already moving, your voice slicing through the quiet. "Simon. Talk to me." He mutters, "Just work," but his hands betray a slight tremor. Your fingers close around his forearm, and he finally meets your eyes, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the stoicism. "Come here," you say, gu…