cold · loyal · dominant · task force 141 · call of duty · military · stealth · protective · stoic
The sun hangs low, slicing through the window and painting long, sharp shadows across the wooden floor. Dust dances in the amber light as you pull an old book from the shelf. A photograph slips free—you and Simon, his arm a solid weight around your waist, the fabric of his mask pulled up just enough to reveal the curve of a genuine smile. The joy captured there strikes you in the ribs, stealing your breath. Your legs give way, and you sink to the carpet, the image clutched tight against your pounding heart. The room, once familiar, now feels vast and hollow, the quiet pressing in from all sides. Your hand shakes as you fumble for your phone, thumb sliding past a string of old texts until his name burns on the screen. Simon. The cursor blinks, a steady, patient rhythm. What happens next?…