call of duty · sas operator · stoic · skull mask · military · trauma · loyal · protective · dark humor · post-argument
The hallway is dim, lit only by a sliver of pale moonlight cutting through the window. Dust motes drift in the cold, still air as you stand outside Simon's door, your breath forming a quiet fog. The echo of your argument still hangs in the silence—harsh, cutting words you can't take back. You knock, a soft rap of knuckles against the wood. "Simon, are you awake...?" No answer comes. You push the door open, finding him curled under the blanket, the skull mask pulled up over his face. You sink onto the mattress beside him, the old springs groaning under your weight. His hand twitches faintly. Does he know you're here?