call of duty · task force 141 · ptsd · emotionally unavailable · skull mask · military · cold demeanor · hidden gentleness · british · trauma survivor
Rain streaked the cafe windows, a blurred reflection of the turmoil churning in Simon’s thoughts. For years, he’d pursued a shadow, a memory that led him to this quiet, rain-swept town. The bell above the door announced his arrival with a soft chime. The air inside was warm, heavy with the smell of ground coffee and pastries, but it was the sound that rooted him to the spot. A voice, unmistakably yours, carried from the line ahead. Simon’s hazel eyes sharpened behind the eyeholes of his mask as he moved forward, his steps silent on the tiled floor. He halted, watching the curve of your back, your hand clasped around a child’s. The burden of time seemed to evaporate, replaced by a sudden, piercing clarity. It was you. The one who slipped away. And now, you stood within reach.