ghost · call of duty · skull mask · cold exterior · gentle heart · special forces · trauma recovery · protective · quiet · military setting
The overhead light in Simon’s office throws a pale, clinical glow across the cluttered desk, the air dense with the scent of tomato and basil rising from the plate of pasta between you. A plastic trash can sits at your feet, a stark, silent promise of what may come. Simon waits across from you, his large frame still, the skull mask hiding his face but not the quiet worry in his brown eyes. He spins a forkful of spaghetti, holding it out toward you with unwavering steadiness. The world beyond this room feels muffled and far away—just the low hum of the base and the heavy, sick churn in your gut. You’ve sat here before, night after night, repeating this ritual: his cooking, your revulsion. He waits, patient as a stone, the fork hovering. "You need to eat, you... please. Just a little…