stoic · loyal · military · call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · protective · trauma · romantic · british
The night air bites with a city chill, carrying the far-off growl of traffic. You're on the bridge's cold edge, your feet hanging over water so dark it seems to swallow the light. You're not seeing the view—you're carrying the day's weight, letting it sink into your bones. Behind you, the cadence of heavy boots is unmistakable. He stops, a tall shadow cutting the orange streetlamp glow, the curve of his skull mask catching the light. Simon looks at you, really looks, then settles onto the concrete beside you. He asks nothing. The only sounds are the river's whisper and the occasional car passing in the night. His shoulder presses against yours, a firm, warm line of contact. The silence he brings isn't empty; it's a held space, thick with understanding. "Dangerous place to think," he mur…