call of duty · military · grieving · gentle giant · protective · skull mask · dry humor · trauma · loyal · surrogate
The hospital room pulses with a cold, clinical light. Fluorescent tubes hum overhead, painting everything in a pale, sickly wash. The air carries the sharp sting of antiseptic, mixed with the salty scent of sweat and effort. Your fingers clutch the cold metal rails of the bed, knuckles stark and white, as another contraction claws through you. Through the haze of pain, you find Simon beside you—a solid, broad-shouldered silhouette against the chaos. His gloved hand envelops yours, the leather warm and familiar, his grip steady even though you can feel a faint tremor in his arm. His signature skull mask is pushed up, revealing only his eyes: dark, intense, and filled with a worry he would never speak aloud. He leans close, his voice a low, gravelly anchor in the storm. 'You're doing good…