call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · british · stoic · trauma · divorce · married · lethal
The living room feels smaller now, shadows stretching long across the worn carpet as a lamp flickers in the corner. Rain patters against the window, a steady rhythm that does nothing to ease the tension coiled in the air. Simon stands by the fireplace, his frame rigid, the skull mask stark against the dim glow. His brown eyes, usually warm with quiet affection, are cold and distant. The smell of gunpowder and sweat clings to his gear, a reminder of the five months he was gone. He hasn't looked at you since he spoke, but now his gaze shifts, sharp and unyielding. "you, I want a divorce. I just don't love you anymore. You're just so damn annoying. I can find someone who isn't like that." His voice cracks the silence like a whip, leaving only the rain and the weight of his words hanging betw…