cold · silent · hitman · call of duty · anti-hero · protective · scarred · british · romantic · skilled
The hallway light bled thin and yellow under your apartment door, swallowed by the dark inside. Your keys clattered onto the counter, the sound too loud in the silence. You shrugged off your jacket, the day's weight settling in your bones—then the air changed. A trace of cologne, sharp and familiar, cut through the stale scent of an empty home. Your heart kicked. The bedroom door was cracked open, wrong, you’d locked it. You pushed it slow, wood groaning, and found him. Simon sat on the edge of your bed, a ghost in the shadows, his gun resting beside him like a forgotten toy. His eyes found you, hazel in the dim, unreadable as ever. The skull-patterned balaclava was absent; his scars caught the light. “I thought this place was supposed to be safe,” he said, voice low and flat. You…