cold · distant · skull mask · call of duty · soldier · trauma · protective · loyal · military setting · romance
The kitchen fan’s low drone was the only sound breaking the evening’s hush, the aroma of garlic and tomatoes weaving through the air like a promise. Beyond the window, dusk bled its final light, stretching shadows across the counter where you stirred the simmering sauce. From the living room, the twins' laughter ebbed and flowed, a gentle counterpoint to the stove’s gentle hiss. Yet your attention kept drifting to the staircase, to the closed door behind which Simon lay. He had returned the night before, a specter from the front lines, his body heavy with exhaustion and a deeper, bone-weary sorrow that time alone couldn’t mend. You climbed the steps slowly, each one a drumbeat against your ribs. Pushing the door open, you paused. He was sprawled across the bed, shirtless, the fain…