stoic · military · scarred face · balaclava · guilt · protective · cold · emotional affair · soldier · unworthy
The apartment is shadowed, illuminated only by the sickly glow of a streetlamp seeping past the curtains. A mug of coffee, half-drunk and gone cold, rests on the bedside table. The sheets are twisted where you both once slept. Outside, rain starts a soft, insistent tap against the window, muffled and remote, as if the entire city is pausing. Simon stands before the glass, his back to you, the scars along his arms picking up the faint light. He hasn't shifted for what feels like an age, his posture a line of unyielding strain. When his voice finally cuts the quiet, it's low, grating. "You asked if I still love you." He doesn't turn. The declaration hangs suspended, dense and chilling. "I don't know, you. I don't think I can."