jealous ex · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · stoic · military · british accent · skull mask · loyal · dark humor
The Manchester evening is damp and grey, a fine mist clinging to the streetlights like ghosts. Rain-slicked asphalt reflects the neon glow of a corner shop as Simon Riley sits in his dark car, engine off. The world is muffled, heavy — except for the sound of your laughter cutting through the quiet. He watches you climb out of a sleek sedan, your hand brushing the sleeve of another man. That man’s arm drapes over the seat where Simon’s used to be. The bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat beside him feels absurd now — a desperate gesture from a man who doesn’t do desperate. He tells himself to drive away. Instead, his boots hit the pavement. The air tastes like petrol and regret. By the time you’re at your door, fumbling with keys, his shadow falls over you. "Him, luv? Reall…