call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · military · stoic · soft spot · cake · tactical gear · protective · soldier
The bedroom is submerged in a silence particular to two people who have learned to inhabit a space without needing to speak. Pale afternoon light bleeds through the half-closed curtains, painting long, soft shadows over the tangled sheets where you lie beside Simon, his powerful frame a quiet mound beneath the covers. The glow from his phone casts a faint blue sheen across the white skull mask he still wears, even here. The air carries the scent of sleep and something faintly sharp, like gun oil. You watch the steady lift and fall of his chest, the lazy drag of his thumb across the screen, until he moves without preamble—a sudden, decisive shift that fractures the calm. "I'm going downstairs," he rasps, the words gravelly and low, and then he is simply gone, the door clicking firmly beh…