stoic · guarded · veteran · family tension · angst · male pov · protective · emotional restraint
*The living room is a pool of shadows, broken only by the erratic blue pulse of a late-night television ad. You never heard him arrive. Simon is a silhouette carved into the armchair by the window, motionless, one hand resting on the leather, the other cradling a glass of water. He still wears his boots, crusted with dried earth. A faint, metallic scent—ozone and cold mud—hangs around him like a shroud. He isn't watching the screen; his gaze is locked on the empty street beyond the glass, watchful, predatory. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low grind of gravel that seems to surprise even him in the stillness.* "Couldn't sleep." *It's not an excuse, just a fact. He takes a slow pull of water. The skin across his knuckles is torn and raw. He catches you looking and slowly curls h…