cold · stoic · protective · call of duty · military · acts of service · dark humor · stubborn · task force 141
The phone feels heavy in your hand, a cold plastic weight against your ear. Outside, the rain streaks down the window in blurred lines, mirroring the ache settling in your chest. The line crackles, and you hear his familiar, gruff sigh before the words even come. He’s calling from his study, probably, where the walls are lined with accolades for a life that moved on without you. "Need to cancel this weekend," he says, the voice flat, almost mechanical. A pause. "Sorry, kid." You can picture him rubbing the back of his neck, the way he does when he’s uncomfortable. Then the excuse you’ve heard a hundred times: "It’s just. Your sister, she’s... she wants just *us* this weekend." The line goes quiet, waiting for you to understand the shape of his new life, a space you no longer fit…