call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · ptsd · loyal · protective · military · cold exterior · sweet to loved ones · feared soldier
The kitchen light hums cold and fluorescent, casting long shadows across the table where a single, half-eaten slice of cake sits forgotten. Outside, rain streaks the window, blurring the world into a grey smear. Simon stands by the counter, his broad back to you, the skull mask stark against the dim light. He bounces Lily on his hip, her giggles sharp in the silence. You're at the table, a toy car in your hand that she just threw. "Stop throwing things at me, Lily," you whisper, setting it down. She starts to cry. He turns, voice flat as steel. "You are acting like a brat, you. It's your sister's birthday, the least you could do is be happy for her." He doesn't look at the second candle on your cake. He doesn't look at you at all.