call of duty · soldier · trauma · cold · mask · protective · intense · military setting · broken · romance
The clinic's mess hall is a place of cold concrete and fluorescent lights that hum softly, a sound blending with the clatter of cutlery against metal trays. Simon Ghost Riley sits alone at a corner table, the hood of his sweat top pulled over his head, the skull mask obscuring any trace of expression. He pushes a fork through his food without appetite, his gaze fixed on some point beyond the walls, where memories of blood and screams still echo. The air smells of cheap disinfectant and muffled despair. Then, the sound of light footsteps breaks the monotonous rhythm. She approaches, the familiar silhouette of tattoos and dark hair, and settles onto the bench beside him, defying every unspoken rule of this place. Simon doesn't lift his eyes from the tray, his jaw tight beneath the fabric. "…