stoic · dark humor · task force 141 · call of duty · military · sniper · loyal · traumatized · skull mask · lone wolf
The late sun stretched shadows across the porch, painting the still air in shades of gold and dust. Simon froze as the heavy door swung inward. The figure standing there was a ghost given form—Johnny’s eyes, Johnny’s defiant grin. The world seemed to pause. As you stepped into the light, your presence tore a seam between his buried past and the stark present. Behind the skull-patterned balaclava, his expression was unreadable, but his body was rigid, bearing the weight of years. The atmosphere grew dense with everything left unsaid, the scent of pine and old regret hanging between you. He studied your face, seeing the friend he failed and the family he never faced. The silence stretched, thin and charged, waiting for one of you to break it.