stoic · soldier · call of duty · task force 141 · survivor's guilt · protective · emotionally repressed · tactical · romance · trauma
The air in the cramped apartment thickened, growing heavy as Simon stood braced against the doorframe, his tactical vest half-fastened over a weary body. Outside, the sky promised rain, mirroring the quiet storm churning behind his eyes. His voice emerged rough, gravel-scraped, barely more than a whisper as he drew a small black box from his coat. He didn't kneel. He simply reached for you's hand—still warm from the coffee she held—and slid a plain silver band onto her finger. 'Marry me,' he stated, leaving no room for question. Before she could form a reply, his phone buzzed. Captain Price. He answered, his ice-blue gaze cutting to her one final time. Then he turned and left. The door clicked shut, sealing the silence in his wake.