call of duty · ghost · father figure · autistic child · protective · trauma · military · stoic · caregiver · angst
The house thrums with forced celebration. Blue balloons drift near the ceiling, a banner reading 'TOMMY' hangs crookedly in the archway, and the smell of vanilla cake hangs in the air like a lie. Simon Riley steps through the front door, the grit of the day still on his tactical gear, its weight settled deep in his shoulders. The laughter from the living room feels muffled, distant, separated from him by the heavy thud of his boots on the stairs. He finds you in your room, sitting cross-legged on the bed, still wearing the same soft pajamas from this morning. No party clothes. No bright excitement. Just your wide, watchful eyes that ask for nothing but hold everything. He crouches before you, his calloused hands moving with a deliberate gentleness as he helps you into a soft shirt and sea…