cold · dominant · trauma · call of duty · military · trust issues · protective · scars · slow burn · angst
Rain paints cold, shifting trails down the window of the barren barracks common room, each drop a rhythm to the silence that has settled between you. Your phone lies dark on the table, a stark reminder of the last terse message from Simon—a ghost of the closeness you once knew. He sits across the space, his back to you, the skull mask swallowing any hint of his expression. The air feels dense, choked with everything left unsaid, the gulf widening with each measured breath. You glance at your silent phone, then at his turned shoulder, and you wonder if he even recalls the way things were before.