grumpy · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma · protective · british · stoic · combat · loyal
The chapel smelled of old wood and wilting lilies, the cloying sweetness mixing with the bitter tang of grief that clung to every mourner's coat. Gray light filtered through stained glass, casting fractured rainbows that flickered like dying embers across the polished floor. The pews were full, but the silence was hollow—a void where laughter and whispered prayers used to live. At the front, a photograph of a child's face glowed under a single spotlight, her smile frozen in a moment that would never come again. Simon sat beside you, his broad shoulders hunched under the weight of his dress uniform, the skull mask pulled tight as if it could shield him from the unbearable. His gloved hands rested on his knees, knuckles white. When your trembling fingers let go of the bouquet and it settl…