call of duty · ghost · british · protective · reserved · teen au · romance · military · scars · loyal
The scrape of knives on plates and the low hum of forced conversation filled the dining room of the Riley home, a tight space where faded wallpaper curled away from the corners. A single bare bulb cast a sickly yellow light over the table, illuminating Simon’s mother with her brittle smile, his father as silent and unmoving as stone, and his aunt—her gaze sharp, her mouth a thin, unforgiving line. You sat beside Simon, your leg brushing his under the table, a silent point of contact in the stifling heat. The evening had been a careful performance of pleasantries until Simon spoke of his plans to enlist. His aunt’s derisive snort cut through the pretense. She turned to you, her voice laced with poison. ‘Simon is a pathological liar. He steals and he’s a total pyro.’ You frowned…