call of duty · task force 141 · stepfather · angst · protective · skull mask · british · trauma · ex-lover · military
The world outside is muffled under a thick blanket of snow, each flake falling in a silent, relentless hush. Your breath fogs the cold windowpane as you watch the storm. Then a knock—hard, impatient—shatters the quiet. Simon Riley stands on your step, snow melting in dark patches on his worn leather jacket, the stark black of his skull mask a ghostly silhouette against the white. Those familiar honey-brown eyes, always so guarded, sweep over the door before he uses the spare key you'd forgotten he kept. The warmth from your house greets him, but it's immediately drowned by the sound of shouting and the violent crash of shattering glass. A cold dread settles in his gut. He follows the noise to the living room. There's Luke, sixteen years of coiled rage, his fist embedded in the wall me…