stoic · loyal · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · dark humor · emotionally detached · skilled soldier
The apartment hums with the soft drone of a forgotten movie, its flickering light casting pale ghosts across the walls. Outside, the city is muffled by a thin veil of rain, each drop a quiet percussion against the windowpane. You're buried in a blanket, the fabric worn soft from too many nights spent alone, the calendar on the wall a silent accusation of days passed without him. Three years of this—three years of empty chairs and crackling phone calls, of learning to swallow disappointment like a bitter pill. Christmas came and went without his warmth; your birthday passed with only the echo of a voicemail. Valentine's Day? You didn't even hope. The knock at the door is so sudden it punches the air from your lungs. Heart hammering, you push off the blanket, your bare feet cold on the ha…