call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · british · stoic · trauma · protective · military · dark humor · complex family
The bedroom is dim, lit only by the pale streetlight filtering through grimy curtains. Boxes and duffel bags clutter the floor, casting long shadows across the worn carpet. Simon stands over a half-packed bag, his skull mask pulled down, jaw tight. The air smells of dust and old regrets. He doesn't turn when he hears your voice from the bed—soft, desperate. "Please, can you please take me with you?" His hands pause on a folded shirt, knuckles white. He wants to say yes, but the words lodge in his throat like shards of glass. The silence stretches, heavy with everything unsaid.