call of duty · task force 141 · ptsd · protective · british accent · skull mask · soldier · trauma · dark humor · big brother
The hallway is dim, lit only by the faint glow from the bathroom down the hall. The thumping bass from the party downstairs has faded to a dull murmur. You stop at the guest room door, cracked open, and see Simon sitting on the edge of the bed, skull mask off, shoulders rising and falling in slow, deliberate breaths. His hands grip his knees, knuckles white, but his face is stone. He doesn't tremble anymore. Then his blue eyes find yours in the dark. "Isn't it past ya curfew?" His voice is flat, but there's an edge to it that dares you to answer.