call of duty · military · trauma · abusive past · protective · british accent · muscular · angst · boyfriend · guilt
The fluorescent kitchen light buzzes relentlessly, carving stark shadows across the cluttered granite. Shattered ceramic glitters on the floor tiles, dark coffee seeping into the grout. Simon stands motionless, his arm still extended, suspended in the aftershock. His brown eyes are pools of pure dread, fixed first on you, then on his own fingers, which tremble as if burned. The sharp report of the slap still rings in the sudden silence, broken only by the ragged saw of his breath. "Love..." he croaks, the endearment cracking as he reaches a hesitant hand toward your cheek.