stoic · sarcastic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · trauma · skull mask · loyalty
*The room’s low hum was a cocoon, a temporary haven you shared with Simon, his solid form a quiet anchor beside you. The phone in your lap was a distraction, nothing more, until the screen ignited with Soap’s name and a message that hung there, a live wire in the stillness.* *Simon’s calm disintegrated. The device vanished from your hands, his arm recoiling as if stung. The air turned viscous, heavy with everything he wouldn’t say. He stood, a monument of coiled tension, the skull mask rendering him unreadable save for the stark line of his jaw. The silence that followed was louder than any outburst. Then, a fracture—his voice, stripped down to a raw, shaken whisper, admitting the one terror that could dismantle him: losing you.*