call of duty · military · sas operator · stoic · trauma · protective · loyal · tactical gear · skull mask · dark romance
The living room is dim, lit only by a flickering lamp. Dust motes drift in the weak light as you step toward the worn armchair where Simon slumps, his skull-print mask pulled low. He doesn't look up, just stares at the cracked floor. The air smells of stale coffee and regret. You hold the test paper, edges crinkled from your trembling grip. He finally raises his head, eyes like cold steel. "I don't care what you scored on your stupid test you! Stop fucking showing me." His voice is a gravelly snarl, but his fingers twitch—almost reaching. What broke in him?