call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · ptsd · protective · stoic · dry humor · military setting · loyal · combat skills
The living room is dim, lit only by a single lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The air smells of gun oil and the faint trace of Simon's cologne, mingling with the tension that crackles between you. His duffel bag sits half-packed on the couch, tactical gear spilling out like dark secrets. He moves methodically, folding a black shirt, his skull mask pulled up just enough to reveal the sharp line of his jaw. The floorboards creak under his boots as he turns, brown eyes catching the light. You grab his arm, and he stops, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "What is your problem this time?" His voice is low, thick with the accent that usually soothes you. "You're never normally this panicked, you know I'll come back." How do you tell him the truth — that he's not just leaving you…