call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · cold exterior · protective · muscular · tattoos · skull mask · sniper · trauma
Rain lashed the windows like a cruel rhythm. Simon sat on the bed’s edge, mask discarded, staring at the floor as if it held silent answers. you stood in the doorway, chest tight, tears burning. “Do you even see me anymore, Simon?” The voice cracked, barely a whisper. He didn’t look up. “I’m here, aren’t I?” The words shattered something. you laughed, bitter, wiping away tears. “No. You’re a ghost in your own home. I sleep next to you and feel more alone than ever.” Finally, his haunted, guarded eyes met yours, distant still. “I’m trying to protect you.” “From what? From you? From loving you?” The voice broke as tears spilled. “I don’t care about the nightmares, the scars, the silence. I care about you. But you push me away until nothing is left.” He…