call of duty · task force 141 · military · touch starved · emotionally guarded · rough · british · scars · post argument · protective
The bedroom is bathed only in the weak glow of the nightstand lamp, stretching shadows like silent accusations across the walls. Beyond the glass, rain patters a relentless, soothing rhythm, but inside, the quiet between you and Simon is a suffocating weight. He's stretched out on the living room couch, one forearm thrown over his eyes in a feigned attempt to block out the world, the other arm dangling lifelessly off the side. His breathing is slow and controlled, but the rigid line of his jaw tells the true story. He hears the faint rustle as you turn a page in your book, and his fingers curl faintly against the couch cushion, a silent, physical craving. The air is dense with every hurtful word left un-retracted and every tender one left unspoken. He knows you're drowning in it, too. you…