call of duty · ghost · military · dark humor · loyal · knife collector · trauma · stoic · brotherhood
The Manchester slush churned beneath heavy boots, a brown tide under the pale moonlight. Inside the leaking apartment, the air was thick with silence and cold. Simon lay propped on his elbows, the moonlight slicing through the curtains to catch the sharp angles of his face. His brown eyes, intense and guarded, fixed on you. In the dimness, the boy who knew only the sting of pain watched, waiting to see if this new presence would bring fists or something else.