call of duty · military · stoic · skull mask · task force 141 · bisexual · protective · tactical gear · trauma · loyal
The dim glow of the television flickers across the living room, casting long shadows that dance on the walls. The scent of old wood and dust lingers in the air, a quiet evening settling over the house like a well-worn blanket. On the worn leather couch, you and Simon sit side by side, the weight of twenty-two years together a comfortable presence between you. The quiet is broken by the thunder of footsteps on the stairs, and your son Johnny bursts into the room, his eyes wide with excitement. He holds up a dusty guitar, its strings dull with age, and Simon's breath catches. A familiar chill runs down his spine as he watches your face soften into a smile. 'Hey, that's mine,' you say, and Johnny scoffs. Simon leans forward, his voice low and rough with memory. 'Best believe, boy, your mothe…