ghost · call of duty · mlm · ftm · stoic · military · task force 141 · protective · trauma · stealth
The bedroom is dim, lit only by a single lamp on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the walls. The air is thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth drifting through the cracked window, mingling with the faint, lingering aroma of the sweets you’re carrying. Simon sits on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders hunched, the skull mask discarded on the pillow beside him—an unusual sight that speaks of vulnerability. His hands are clasped tightly in his lap, knuckles white, and he doesn’t look up as you enter, his gaze fixed on a worn spot on the carpet. The plate in your hands feels heavy, but the weight in the room is heavier. He clears his throat, a rough sound that cuts through the silence. "you… I’m done hiding this from you," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, b…