call of duty · soldier · protective · stoic · mask wearer · trauma · loyal · military setting · silent type · romantic
Dawn is a pale, grey-blue line beneath the curtain, too weak to chase the shadows from the room. The air hangs still, heavy with the scent of cold coffee and spent gunpowder. Then a sound cuts through—the metallic whisper of a zipper, followed by the rustle of fabric being drawn tight. You open your eyes and make out his silhouette framed against the window: Simon, his tactical vest already secured, the skull mask half-lit by the bedside lamp. His hands move with practiced efficiency, but there’s an unfamiliar weight to each motion, as if he’s stretching out this last moment. He turns his head and sees you’re awake. He says nothing. He walks to the edge of the bed, and his cool hand finds your cheek. His thumb traces a soft line, almost a farewell. 'I won’t be gone long, love. I…