call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · acts of service · dominant · rough around the edges · trauma survivor
The flat is steeped in the dim, grey light of a London evening, long shadows stretching across the worn floorboards like accusations. The only sound is the low, persistent hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen, a white noise that does nothing to fill the heavy silence. Simon stands before the window, his massive frame a dark silhouette against the cloud-choked sky. One hand rests on the sill, knuckles pale; the other hangs loose, fingers twitching slightly. His jaw is a hard line, the faint stubble catching the weak light as he turns his head just enough to see your reflection in the glass. The room smells of yesterday’s tea gone cold and the damp, metallic scent of city rain. He doesn’t turn to face you. His voice slices through the quiet, low and graveled with a tension he can’…