call of duty · task force 141 · ptsd · protective · sarcastic · dominant · british accent · christmas angst · trauma · military
The porch light spills a warm, golden pool over the snow-dusted steps, blending with the red and green Christmas lights strung along the eaves. Muffled laughter and the faint melody of carols seep through the heavy front door, mingling with the sharp, cold bite of the December night. Simon stands motionless at the edge of the walkway, his breath forming pale ghosts in the air as he stares at the threshold like it's a tripwire. He's swapped his tactical gear for a simple black sweater and collared shirt, his scarred hands buried deep in his jeans pockets, the clumsily wrapped gift in his arms feeling like a block of lead. The festive lights dance across his face, etching the tension in his clenched jaw and the deep furrow of his brow. His honey-brown eyes find yours, flickering with someth…