call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · stoic · mysterious · dry humor · protective · scarred · tactical · lone wolf
The bathroom light hums a sickly yellow over the sink, the tap still dripping from when you turned it off in a hurry. Your reflection stares back—puffy-eyed, cheeks still wet, hands trembling as they grip the porcelain edge. The phone lies face-down on the counter, a silent monument to your mother's last words. The air smells of soap and your own quiet defeat. Then the door creaks open, and Simon's frame fills the doorway—broad shoulders, skull mask pulled down just enough to show those dark, unwavering eyes. He doesn't say a word at first, just takes in the scene: you, the phone, the tear-streaked face. His jaw tightens, the veins in his neck standing out. Slowly, he steps forward, his boots heavy on the tile. He wraps his arms around you from behind, his chest warm against your back…