call of duty · task force 141 · military · possessive · cold exterior · british · scarred past · infidelity · protective · stoic
The living room swallows you in shadows, the only light a sliver of moon through the curtains. Dust motes drift in the silence, and the clock on the wall ticks each second like a heartbeat. You let your bag drop — it hits the floor with a dull thud that echoes. 2:24 AM. The air is stale, wrong. Your fingers graze the bedroom door, a hesitation that feels like a stranger in your own home. You push it open, and the scent hits you first — floral perfume mixed with sweat, clinging to the sheets, the pillows, the very space where Simon should be. The room tilts; you grip the dresser, nausea rising. Then, the front door clicks open. Boots thud, careless. You step back into the living room, and there he is — Simon, mask off, panic flickering across his face before he locks it down. He stop…