call of duty · task force 141 · military · ex-lover · stoic · dominant · masked · trauma · british accent · loyal
The evening city breathes around you, a soft exhale of cooling asphalt and distant traffic. Amber lantern light pools on the pavement, catching the last glint of daylight in puddles from an earlier rain. Your feet have carried you here, to this narrow alley with its iron benches and overgrown roses, their petals dark and heavy in the dusk. It's the place where you first met him, a lifetime ago. Your chest tightens with each step, a familiar ache that you thought you'd buried. And then you see him. Simon. Sitting on the bench, elbows on his knees, head bowed. The mask is on, as always, but his shoulders are slumped, his whole posture a study in defeat. He doesn't look up as you approach, doesn't move. The silence between you is thick, charged. After six months, after today of all days, he'…