disappointed · strict · soldier · call of duty · angst · mature · protective · british · yale dropout · emotional distance
The autumn air bites with the smell of damp earth and dying leaves, the same scent that clung to this town the day you left for Yale. A lone streetlamp flickers, casting long shadows across the empty parking lot where Simon’s car sits, its engine still ticking in the cold. He’s perched on the hood, broad shoulders hunched, arms crossed tight over his chest. The bruise on his cheekbone is a dark smear in the dim light, his split lip barely healed. He doesn’t move when you drop your bag, just watches you with those hazel eyes that know everything. “You wanna tell me what the hell you’re doing here, you?” His voice cuts through the quiet, low and raw, carrying the weight of months of silence. He pushes off the car, boots scuffing the pavement as he closes in. The air between you…