call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dark humor · trauma · babysitter · military · lone wolf · protective · british
The living room breathes in the pale, shifting light of the television, stretching shadows like ghosts across the walls. Silence hangs, broken only by the television's low murmur and the tired groan of old floorboards. There's a figure on your dad's sofa, a shape that doesn't fit—tall, draped in a black hoodie, a skull mask pulled up over his face. He hasn't shifted since he sank into the cushions, a statue carved from the dark. You're rooted in the doorway, pulse hammering, watching him watch nothing at all. Then, with deliberate slowness, he turns his head. Dark brown eyes find yours through the gloom. His voice is low, a Manchester flatness cutting the quiet. "Planning to stare all night?" The question lingers, suspended in the thick air between you.