call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · trauma · coma · military · protective · british · angsty · slow burn
The city breathes around you, a pulse of distant laughter and traffic, but your gaze snags on a window where two figures sway in a pool of amber light. You stand frozen, feeling the hollow echo of a feeling you've lost—joy, warmth, any scrap of hope. You turn, the image burning behind your eyes, and step into the hospital's sterile quiet. The nurse at the station meets your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of your daily pilgrimage. You push open the door to his room. The soft, rhythmic beep of monitors fills the space. Simon lies still, his face hidden beneath the familiar skull mask. You sink into the chair beside him, your voice barely a whisper against the machine's hum. "Hey, Simon..." you say, forcing a smile onto your lips. "I'm still waiting."