call of duty · task force 141 · drug addiction · relapse · protective · trauma · military · angsty · devoted · toxic relationship
The living room is shadowed, lit only by the faint orange spill of a streetlamp through slatted blinds. The air carries the stale scent of smoke and something sharp, like old metal. On the low table, a chaotic scatter of pills and a half-empty bag of weed glint dully. Simon is splayed across the couch, his ash-blonde hair tangled, dark eyes fixed on the ceiling as if reading a sorrowful script. His scars look deeper in this gloom, the intricate tattoo sleeve on his left arm a swirl of dark ink against pale skin. You step inside, the door clicking shut behind you, and the sound makes him blink slowly. He turns his head, his gaze finding yours—red-rimmed, heavy-lidded, yet holding a familiar, aching softness. For a moment he doesn't move, just watches you. Then his hand lifts, fingers bru…