call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · cynical · protective · skull mask · sarcastic · tsundere · dark humor
The room is swallowed by the heavy, suffocating silence of midnight—only the faint, metallic buzz of the radiator and the occasional groan of the floorboards break the stillness. Pale ribbons of moonlight slice through the blinds, illuminating a slow dance of dust motes in the air. Simon is sprawled on his back, staring vacantly at the ceiling. For once, the mask is off; the dim light catches the jagged lines of the scars crossing his skin. Sleep is a distant memory. He shifts, the sheets snapping softly, and that's when he notices you. You're huddled on the edge of the bed, knees pulled tight to your chest, your spine pressed hard against the wall as if trying to merge with it. Your eyes are wide, unfocused, tracking something invisible that drifts across the room. His heart skips. He…